The War Chronicles: Uprising
by Brihna
Summary: When Mitchell is attacked by Herrick and left in the hospital barely clinging to life, George and Annie are at a loss as to how to save him. That is, until someone from Mitchell's past shows up. One who describes himself as "an old friend." Who is Lucian? - AU **UPDATE 9/4/13 - SEQUEL IS UP**
1. Prologue: Break

**_I'm calling this an AU because, though I will be covering some canon events in the series, I'm changing some things on a fundamental level. Mitchell, George, and Annie will remain their canon supernatural entities, but I'm changing the rules a bit. I won't bore you with specific details here, but you'll catch on as the story progresses. I've always been intrigued by various versions of vampire lore in particular, and I've drawn inspiration for this universe from _****Underworld_ and _The Mortal Instruments_ series, but I'm incorporating my own original ideas as well._**

**_On a less academic and more exciting note (at least, I'm pretty excited about it), I'd like to talk about my original character. I've had this idea for a while (since I became hopelessly obsessed with _****The Hobbit**_**) that I would really like to see Richard Armitage as a vampire, especially alongside Aidan. This idea soon developed into a full-blown character that I started daydreaming about constantly, and so I am happy to finally introduce Lucian to the world!**_

_**This story is the first in a series of three entitled The War Chronicles, of which I currently have the second installment in the works. **_

_**Thanks for reading and enjoy! :)**_

* * *

**Prologue: Break**

_ **At night I feel like a vampire** _  
_ ** It's not right** _  
_ ** But I just can't give it up** _  
_ ** I'll try to get myself higher** _  
_ ** Let's go** _  
_ ** We're gonna light it up** _  
_ ** Tonight we start the fire** _  
_ ** Tonight we break away** _

_ ** Break away from everybody** _  
_ ** Break away from everything** _  
_ ** If you can't stand the way** _  
_ ** This place is** _  
_ ** Take yourself to higher places** _

** _- Break by Three Days Grace_**

* * *

A lone figure stands on the pavement outside a small club in Bristol, steel blue eyes gazing up at an overcast sky. As a drizzle of rain begins to fall, he turns up the collar of his jacket with a smirk. Lucian's home country may have changed much in the long years of his life, but an English summer was still an English summer.

As day turns swiftly to night, he can feel his senses come to life. He takes a deep breath of the night air and walks towards the entrance to the club. Once inside, Lucian removes his jacket and takes a seat at the bar.

The club is buzzing with activity. Young people enjoying a free evening mill about with drinks in hand. Some are seated at small tables trying to hold conversations over the blast of the music, while others sway to the beat on the makeshift dance floor. The DJ appears to be taking requests tonight, as the current song playing has a distinct rock edge to it, less typical of these sort of club settings. There seem to be no complaints from the patrons however, as the music succeeds in igniting the energy in the room.

Lucian allows himself a small smile as the second verse of the song begins to play and he catches the lyrics.

_At night, I feel like a vampire. It's not right, but I just can't give it up..._

_Humans_, he muses as he takes a sip of his drink. Lucian can recall a time when the human attitude toward his kind was much different. Vampires were hunted down and slaughtered like animals by the fearful masses. Nowadays, vampires were simply the stuff of legend, exploited by Hollywood producers as a means of entertainment. _No_, he thinks, _humans are entirely ignorant of the dangers lurking in the shadows_.

Not that humans need fear _all_ vampires. Vampires can survive well enough on the blood of animals, though it does not grant the drinker the same sort of strength that human blood does. Fresh human blood was known to give the drinker a sort of high, and many vampires would become addicted to it. Though it is possible for a vampire to drink from a human without causing permanent harm, this was rarely the case. Most vampires would end up killing their human victims in a haze of blood lust.

It is for this reason that vampire law strictly forbids the attacking of humans. In the old days especially, vampires needed to do everything they could to avoid discovery. Severe consequences were dealt to any vampire that drew unnecessary attention to their community. The penalty for taking a human life was death.

In more recent history, it has become less of a battle to keep these so-called "rogue" vampires in check. With advancements in the medical field allowing for the drawing and storage of blood, vampires could now obtain human blood without causing harm to a human. Vampires in the medical field, being primarily responsible for such advancements, have continued to maintain control of blood banks for the purpose of aiding humans as well as supplying to vampires in an effort to eliminate the killings. The bagged human blood does not induce the same sort of high or have the addictive quality of a fresh kill, but it sustains a vampire much more sufficiently than animal blood.

Lucian casually scans the crowd, taking in the life of the room. This is what he enjoys about humanity; their sheer vitality. Their lives are so fleeting in the vast scheme of things, but they live as though they will live forever.

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye and he stiffens, instantly alert, as he spots a young man prowling through the crowd. The man is fairly tall with a solid build. His hair is unnaturally dark, longish and straight and his eyes are a sort of pale grey. He is clearly going for a sort of rocker look with his studded bracelets and clearly visible tattoos winding up and down his arms. Lucian believes he may have spotted the individual responsible for the current choice of music, however this is not why the young man has so suddenly commanded his full attention.

Contrary to common myths, sunlight is not harmful to vampires, but it does render them comparably weaker; their senses more akin to mortals. As soon as the sun goes down, a vampires senses come to life, their bodies seemingly fueled by the night. Their strength and speed becomes almost superhuman.

And Lucian is no ordinary vampire. He is considered one of the Old Ones; his memories stretching as far back as the Crusades. He has had centuries to hone his senses and his skills. But he doesn't need centuries' worth of experience to spot what is right in front of him. The tattooed man is a vampire, and he is on the hunt.

Lucian keeps the young man in his peripheral vision as he chats up a young woman near the edge of the crowd. The pair are standing very close to one another, and as the tattooed man leans in to whisper something in the women's ear, the pair turn and exit the club through a side door leading outside. At this cue, Lucian rises from his seat, slaps a couple of bills on the counter, and heads toward the door, pulling on his jacket as he goes.

He steps through the side door cautiously, senses even more heightened due to adrenaline. He stands in the alley for a moment, only to quickly turn on his heel as he hears voices off to his right.

As he rounds the corner, Lucian spots the young woman with her back pressed against the brick building... and the man leaning towards her, fangs bared.

Lucian is there in an instant. He grips the man by the shoulder, spins him around, and slams him bodily against the brick building. The young woman, seeming to return to herself, catches sight of the man with fangs still bared and screams. Lucian turns to her, keeping his grip on the man against the wall. "Go," he says, "now." The women spares him a quick glance, then turns and runs out of the alleyway.

Lucian turns his attention back to the man in his grip, his own fangs bared. "What the hell did you do that for," the man groans, indignantly. "I almost had her!"

"What is your name," Lucian demands, boring into the young man with his gaze. "Adam," is the tentative reply.

"Well then, _Adam_," he continues, keeping his voice even, "tell me, since when has it become common practice to hunt humans, _in a public setting_, for your own amusement? Or are you not familiar with the laws of your own kind? Would you risk the exposure of our world? Just so you could get your _kicks_ for one night?"

He releases Adam with a shove and takes a step back, awaiting a response. What he gets is not what he expects. Adam, who had not met his eye during the entire exchange, finally lifts is head, and he's _laughing_. "You must not live around here," he says smugly, "'cause there's a hell of a lot you don't know."

Lucian clenches his fists at his sides and lowers his voice dangerously, "Who is the head of the local clan," he demands. Adam just sneers at him, shaking his head. Lucian takes a step forward, _"Who is your leader?"_

"He says we shouldn't have to hide," Adam says, "he says the world should belong to us. _We_ have the power. _We_ will live forever. Not the humans! Why should we hide from them? Why should we give a _damn_ about them?"

Lucian grabs Adam by the front of his shirt and shoves him against the wall, _"who?"_

Adam's grey eyes meet steel blue, _"Herrick."_

Lucian releases him abruptly, but stands his ground. "Herrick is weak. He's nothing more than a coward," he growls.

Adam sneers. "You really think so? Herrick will lead the Uprising, and he'll kill anyone who stands in his way. In fact," he continues with relish, _"he already has."_

Lucian shakes his head, "I don't believe you. Herrick will say anything to get what he wants, because fools like you will believe him and follow blindly."

"Really?" Adam boldly takes a step towards him, leaning forward slightly, like he's sharing a secret. "Then what happened to John Mitchell?"

For a moment everything stops, and Lucian is propelled back in time. He sees a pair of brown eyes staring up at him full of fear, but also hope. Fear of himself and what he had become, what he had done. Hope that the man before him could save him, make him feel _human_ again. That was Lucian's responsibility. He had to save him, there was no one else.

Lucian recovers himself quickly and pierces Adam with his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

Adam paces the alleyway, clearly pleased with himself at being privy to this information. "Herrick tried to bring Mitchell in," he begins, "even offered to make him his second." Adam shakes his head in disgust, "but Mitchell wouldn't have any part in it. Said we had no reason to kill humans. That we aren't _monsters_. Blah blah blah..." He stops in front of Lucian and looks him directly in the eyes. "So," he continues, "Herrick shows up at his front door, takes a stake, _and drives it through his bleeding heart."_ On the last word, Adam jabs his finger into Lucian's chest for emphasis before taking a step back, laughing to himself.

Lucian's head is spinning. He refuses to believe there is any real truth behind this man's words, yet he is gripped by fear. He takes measured breaths in an attempt to control his rage, but he can feel himself quickly losing the battle. And all the time, all he can hear is _Adam's laughter_.

He fixes the young vampire with a gaze that could penetrate steel. "You know, you should be more careful," he says as he reaches into his jacket, producing a cylindrical silver object from an inside pocket. Adam doesn't seem to notice. "You know what they say; you may just _die laughing_."

With a flick of his wrist, the end of the silver object extends to a razor sharp point. Lucian doesn't even blink as in one smooth motion, he lunges forward and drives the stake through the still laughing vampire's heart. Breath escapes Adam in a gasp as he gazes down at his chest in confusion, then raises his eyes to Lucian's.

Lucian stares coldly as the figure before him begins to crack and crumble until it is nothing more than a pile of ash. He stands a moment in silence before reaching down and recovering the stake. As he rises, shaking off the dust and depositing the retracted weapon back inside his jacket pocket, he is consumed by a single thought. _I have to find Mitchell._

Lucian turns his face up to the now cloudless and star-filled sky and takes a deep breath of the night air, closing his eyes. Then, swiftly and silently, he turns on his heel and heads out of the alley and into the night.

* * *

**_And so it begins! _**

**_For those who may be wondering, the song referenced at the beginning is "Break" by Three Days Grace. I actually did not originally intend to write a prologue, I was just going to dive right into the story the way the plot summary suggests. I was on my way to work when this song came on my playlist, and when it got to the vampire line I was struck with sudden inspiration which turned into a whole chapter. Shows you how my mind works, lol._**

**_I hope this wasn't too boring with all of the history and whatnot. I was trying to explain how things work in this universe without just giving you guys a list of "rules" for the vampire world. I promise it gets better!_**

**_I appreciate any and all feedback I can get, so please share your thoughts! What you liked; what you didn't like; I need to improve, so let me know! :)_**


	2. Get Out Alive

**Chapter 2: Get Out Alive**

**_"No time for goodbye," he said_**  
**_ As he faded away_**  
**_ "Don't put your life in someone's hands_**  
**_ They're bound to steal it away_**  
**_ Don't hide your mistakes_**  
**_ 'Cause they'll find you, burn you_**"  
**_ Then he said_**

** _ "If you wanna get out alive_ **  
** _ Whoa-oh, run for your life_ **  
** _ If you wanna get out alive_ **  
** _ Whoa-oh, run for your life..."_ **

_ **-Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace**_

* * *

As Mitchell fights to hold onto consciousness, he is aware of three things; bright light, a cacophony of voices, and _pain._ He feels as if he is suffocating beneath the weight of- _what have I got on my face?_

"Mitchell, don't touch the mask." The voice belongs to a woman, but the room is spinning so fast that he can't identify the speaker. He can feel all these hands, pushing and pulling and prodding, and he starts to panic now as he struggles to find something to hang on to.

"We're here, Mitchell. I'm right here." _Annie._ He tries to focus on her, but he can feel himself slipping away. As the noise level around him seems to rise to a deafening crescendo and the light above becomes blinding, Mitchell finally loses his battle with consciousness and descends into darkness.

* * *

_Twenty-four hours earlier..._

Mitchell walks the halls of St. Jude's pushing a cart of cleaning supplies. He stifles a yawn and glances up at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes to midnight, nearly the end of his shift.

As he approaches the emergency wing, there is a sudden burst of activity to his left as the doors to the ambulance entrance burst open and two medics enter the hallway pushing a gurney. Mitchell pulls his cart aside and presses himself against the wall to let them through. As the two men wheel the patient past, he catches a glimpse of the figure lying on the stretcher. He sees a young woman, probably no more than twenty, with long auburn hair and delicate features, eyes closed and pale as death. There is a volume of blood staining the front of her clothes... and two puncture wounds on the side of her throat. Mitchell swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opens his eyes, he is startled to see a figure standing directly in front of him. Mitchell squares his shoulders and fixes the man with a cold stare, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find you here? Still cleaning up the rogues' messes? Or did you muck this one up all by yourself?"

Herrick only grins, removing his police cap and tucking it under his arm. "Don't try to take the moral high ground with me, John Mitchell. We both know your record is anything but spotless."

"Yeah, well I'm clean now," he responds. "I've not had an incident in nearly a decade. I've not been a _slave_ to the blood lust for almost forty years."

Herrick laughs. "Oh yes, 1969. Hell of a year." He pauses, looking wistful. "The year, as I recall, that you abandoned me."

Mitchell stares. "_I_ abandoned _you_? You left me to clean up the mess and then you _ditched me_ at the first sign of trouble!"

Herrick waves him off, "you know I would have come back for you."

_"You left me for DEAD!"_ Mitchell can hardly contain his rage. He digs his nails into his palms in an effort to keep himself from tearing Herrick's head off with his bare hands.

Herrick shakes his head, "Mitchell, Mitchell. We were friends once, don't you remember? The times we had? We _ruled_ this world, it all belonged to us. Now look at you. You spend your days cleaning up after humans, you _live_ like a human. All the while with that reluctant werewolf of yours trailing after you like a stray dog." Mitchell fixes him with a deadly glare, but Herrick is completely oblivious as he takes a step forward and places his hands on his shoulders, "You used to _be_ someone. There are vampires all over Europe that know your name. You're a _legend! _You could have that back."

Mitchell shoves him off, shaking his head. "What do you want, Herrick? You want me to come back? Pretend the last forty years never happened? Go back to living on the run, never staying in one place? Well, you can forget it. I'm never going back to that life."

Herrick just grins. "Times are changing, Mitchell. Pretty soon, people like us... well... let's just say we won't have to hide anymore."

Mitchell furrows his brow, "What are you talking about?"

Herrick only shakes his head and gives him a knowing smile. "Why don't you come and see for yourself? Tomorrow night. You know where to find us." And with that, Herrick puts on his police cap, turns on his heel, and heads down the hallway in the direction the medics went, leaving Mitchell alone with his thoughts.

* * *

When he catches up with George in the locker room as the two prepare to leave for the night, Mitchell chooses not to say anything about his encounter with Herrick, nor about the auburn-haired girl the medics brought in. As the pair head home, he can only smile and nod at whatever George is saying- something about Nina changing her shampoo, he's not sure- his mind is elsewhere.

When they arrive at the house, Mitchell greets Annie, but promptly excuses himself for the night, claiming a headache, and heads to bed.

As he lays in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, he mulls over the events of the evening, trying to determine the hidden meaning behind Herrick's words. He knows it isn't wise to try and deal with Herrick on his own. Ever since he found out Herrick was in town a few months back, he had kept his head down, determined to avoid him at all cost. Now he isn't so sure he can ignore it anymore. He needs to find out what Herrick is up to, because whatever it is can't be good.

As the sun begins to set the following evening, Mitchell walks down the empty street alone, heading to the local funeral parlor where he knows Herrick and many of the local vampires have taken up residence. He had told George and Annie nothing, simply that he was "going out." He was still determined not to involve them in anything to do with his past.

He enters the building through a side door, and as he turns to survey the room he swallows hard. There are _a lot more_ vampires in this room than he ever expected. _This is not good._ He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and wanders along the edge of the crowd, taking in the different faces. Some he recognizes, others he has never seen before. Soon, heads begin to turn in his direction as well and he can hear them whispering to each other. _"Is that John Mitchell?" "I heard he was dead." "I heard he's been living in South America." "...used to be Herrick's right hand..." "...has killed more people than any vampire his age..."_

He tries to ignore them as he moves through the room. _What has Herrick been telling people?_ he wonders. As he catches Herrick's eye across the room and Herrick begins to make his way toward him, Mitchell begins to think that this was a very bad idea.

"I knew you'd come," Herrick says as he pulls Mitchell into an awkward embrace which he does not return. "The prodigal son returns," Herrick says, releasing him. He turns to face the crowd and Mitchell edges away from him and goes to lean against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

"My friends," Herrick begins, "thank you all for coming. I trust you are all wondering why I have asked you here tonight. It seems it is always difficult to gather very many of our kind in one place. You see, we all live our lives in secret, fearful of being discovered for what we are. We must hide in places like this, away from human eyes. Humans, who will only ever age and decay. Humans, who so easily succumb to disease and death. Humans, who are so _weak._ My friends, why is it that we so fear the humans?"

Some of the crowd looks approving, others stir uneasily, but no one is sure whether to answer. After a pause, one of them ventures to speak. Mitchell remembers that his name is Alex. Though he looks to be no more than nineteen, he knows that Alex is actually closer to seventy. "There are laws," he begins, "the Old Ones-"

"Ah, yes," Herrick cuts in, "The Old Ones. They made the laws and therefore we must follow them. Like obedient children." At this, he spares a pointed glance at Mitchell who averts his gaze.

"But in all the long years of our kind, how often have the laws changed? Though the world around us is in constant flux, how have the Old Ones adapted the laws to fit the times? My friends, the Old Ones are stubborn and set in their ways. We should be _evolving_, not staying the same." Herrick pauses, surveying the room. When no further objection is raised, he continues.

"How many human civilizations has vampire kind seen rise and fall? How many famines and plagues have we lived through? How many wars? And yet _we_ are the ones to endure; to survive. It is simple evolution; survival of the fittest. We are the _evolved,_ the superior species. We are stronger, we are faster, _and we will live forever._ We have the power, we should be _ruling _this world, not hiding in it."

"So what do you suggest we do?" The speaker this time is a women with long black hair and almost unnaturally green eyes.

Herrick grins, "My plan is relatively simple, really. You see, there is not much we can do given our present numbers, there are too few of us. What we need are recruits. The hospitals will be the most logical place to start. We will be giving humanity a _gift_. The sick, the cancer ridden, we will rid them of their diseases and grant them immortality! But we will not stop with the infirm. We will need our own kind in positions of power; doctors, lawyers, government officials. The more respected members of the community we can convert, the more the rest of the population will be amicable to our cause."

Mitchell has had enough and he finally breaks his silence. "So that's your plan then? Convert the population? Make them _all_ vampires? Even if you _could_ convince enough of the population without causing mass hysteria in the process, what's going to happen to the blood supply? We're limited as it is."

Vampires rely on their local blood banks, sometimes the local hospital in smaller communities, to keep up their supply. Resources, however, are always limited. The blood banks and hospitals are not able to give away too much of their supply without arousing suspicion. Outside of the larger cities, it is even more difficult for these transactions to go unnoticed.

Herrick does not waver. "I didn't say we would make them _all_ vampires. Humans in their mortal state do have their uses after all." Herrick flashes a toothy smile and, though his fangs are retracted, from his expression Mitchell can't help but think he quite resembles a shark; all pointed teeth.

The room has erupted as individual conversations and heated arguments break out.

Mitchell takes step forward, lowering his voice. "You know Herrick, you've had _a lot_ of insane ideas over the years. Hell, I even helped you carry out quite of few of them, but this? This is completely _mental!_"

Herrick shakes his head. "But it's not. Don't you see how it could work? You work in a hospital. You see the state of those humans. You think they wouldn't take what we can offer them? Mitchell-" Herrick takes a step forward, placing his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "People know you, they _respect_ you. I need you with me on this. I need you on my side. I could make you my second in command."

Mitchell shakes his head in disgust. "Second in command of what? Your _army?_ Against the _humans?_ Because that's what you want to start isn't it? Another bloody war, and for what? There hasn't been any real conflict between the humans and the vampires for centuries, and you would create your own without any provocation. You would make us out to be the monsters they put in their films. But I'll tell you something, Herrick. You won't get what you're after. The humans will only rise up against us and _you_ will be to blame for the wholesale slaughter of our kind! Well, I won't have any part in it!"

Several conversations cease abruptly at Mitchell's outburst as heads begin to turn back in their direction. Herrick drops his voice dangerously low so as to not to be overheard by any eavesdroppers. "You forget that I am the reason you're even standing here, John Mitchell. I would be very careful of what I say if I were you."

Mitchell sets his jaw. "Is that a threat?"

"Oh, it is a promise, I can assure you," Herrick responds with a sneer. "I can make things very difficult for you if you get in my way. You can be sure of that. And there won't be _anyone_ to bail you out this time."

"Well then," he replies as he takes a step back, zipping up his jacket, "I guess I've got nothing to worry about then. Because if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you never keep your word." And with that, Mitchell turns on his heel and exits the building. A group of vampires toward the back stirs at Mitchell's departure. After a moment's murmured discussion, they too turn and head through the door.

As Herrick stares after those departing, a tall, lean figure with grey-blue eyes approaches and stands at his elbow. "So, what do you plan to do about him," he asks. "Oh, don't worry, Seth," Herrick replies, "I will deal with John Mitchell soon enough. You can be sure of that." Seth grins.

* * *

Mitchell wanders the streets of Totterdown for an hour or so. He contemplates heading down to the pub before ultimately deciding against it. He needs to keep a clear head. It's nearly ten o'clock when he finally reaches home.

As Mitchell opens the door he hears raised voices coming from the kitchen.

"Did you look in the cupboard?"

"_Of course_ I looked in the cupboard. Annie, there are NO. MUGS. _You've used them all!_"

Mitchell suppresses a laugh as he glances around and sees that, sure enough, there are mugs full of tea and coffee covering nearly every surface in the house.

"And where have _you_ been," George demands, waving the box of Earl Grey in his hand threateningly as he catches sight of Mitchell in the doorway.

"I told you I was going out," Mitchell replies.

"Out _where?_"

"What are you, my mother?"

"Guys-" Annie steps in between them, gingerly removing the offending object from George's hand, "that's enough. It's getting late, let's all just calm down. George, I will wash a mug and get you a fresh cup of tea right now. Mitchell-"

"What did _I _do?"

"Nothing! Just.. go sit in the living room!"

"Yes, _mum_," Mitchell mutters under his breath.

Annie gives him a stern look and Mitchell retreats to the living room. He picks up a magazine off one of the side tables and plops down on the sofa, flicking through the pages absently. When George walks in a few moments later, Mitchell makes room and George plops down next to him, any prior disagreements completely forgotten. By the time Annie comes to join them, the pair are engrossed in some television program and she knows neither of them will be any good for conversation until it's over. She shakes her head and sighs fondly as she sets a pair of mugs down on the table in front of them and takes a seat in the armchair.

The program ends around an hour later and George reaches for the remote, turning off the television. Mitchell shoots him an inquisitive look.

"So," George begins, "not to try and start a new argument or anything, but where _did_ you go tonight?"

"Is it really _that_ important to you?" Mitchell tries to appear nonchalant, but he's getting a bit nervous now. George is his best friend, and he really doesn't like to lie to him.

"I don't know, mate," George continues, and now Annie is leaning forward in her chair as well. "It's just that, you've been acting really _weird_ since yesterday. It's like, Annie or I will be talking to you, but you look like you're on another planet. I just feel like there's something going on that you're not telling us about."

Mitchell drops his hand, as he realizes he's been nervously chewing on his fingernails. "It's nothing," he says, though he can't bring himself to look either of them in the eye. "It's just work and, you know, life, and I never really did shake that headache last night, so I didn't really sleep..."

"Mitchell-" George gives him a pointed look, "you and I both know that you don't really need to sleep all that much."

"Yeah, but..." Mitchell struggles for words, _anything_ he can say to put an end to this conversation, "I still get tired sometimes..." He trails off, completely at a loss.

George stares at him a moment longer, but when it's clear by the way Mitchell won't even meet his eye that he won't get him to say another word on the subject, he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he says, rising from his seat. "Well, I'm going to bed. Mitchell, Annie, goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."

Mitchell watches him go, feeling the weight of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. He heaves a sigh and gets up off the sofa. "Right then... I guess I'm going to bed."

Annie stares at him. "It's only eleven. Since when do _you_ go to bed at _eleven?_"

"When I'm _tired_, Annie. Aren't I allowed to be tired? I know _you_ must get tired of not sleeping..."

Annie gives him a scrutinizing look, and Mitchell gives up, dropping his arms to his sides with a sigh. "Goodnight, Annie." And with that he heads to his room, leaving Annie's piercing gaze behind him.

* * *

Mitchell is lying on his bed in the dark, still fully clothed, nearly an hour later. He honestly had thought about trying to sleep, but George and Annie were right, it was completely ridiculous. Being a vampire means that he always feels the most alive at night. His hearing is hypersensitive and he can hear George's soft snores down the hallway, indicating that he is definitely asleep. He knows that Annie will have retreated to her room by now as well.

Mitchell gets up and crosses the room as silently as only a vampire can, opens the door, and makes his way down the stairs. He doesn't want to go back out, but he needs to come up with some way to occupy himself before he loses his mind. He reaches for the remote, thinking he might be able to find some half way decent late night program, when he suddenly goes rigid. It isn't so much that he hears something outside, more that he _senses_ something... or someone.

He creeps over to the window, twitching the curtain aside carefully, just enough for him to see out. He sees nothing but the empty street. Still not satisfied, he decides to go to the door.

Mitchell unbolts the door slowly, making as little noise as possible. He turns the knob and pulls the door open about three inches, again, just enough so that he can see out. There is nothing there, still just the empty street.

At this point, he's really beginning to think he's imagining things, but just to put it out of his mind once and for all, Mitchell opens the door the rest of the way and stands in the door frame, looking out into the night. That's when he notices that it is eerily quiet; there is no noise. There doesn't even seem to be any wind.

Then everything happens at once.

There is a blur of movement, and suddenly a lone figure is standing right in front of him. He recognizes the man a second too late, and that is all the time that Herrick needed.

Mitchell's vision goes white as he feels a sharp pain, the worst pain that he has ever felt, in his chest. He is launched backward by the force of the blow, knocking over several objects in the entryway as he collapses to the ground.

Annie, who heard the noise, pops down from her room instantly. She sees Mitchell sprawled on the ground, rapidly losing volumes of blood, and Herrick still hovering in the doorway.

She grabs an umbrella from the overturned stand in the entryway, the closest form of weapon she can find, and brandishes it at Herrick. "GEORGE," she screams, "GEORGE GET DOWN HERE!"

There is a commotion upstairs, and she soon hears the telltale sound of feet running down the hallway. Annie lunges toward Herrick with the umbrella, but he pays her little heed. Satisfied that he has done what he came to do, Herrick disappears out into the night.

Annie drops the umbrella and lunges for the front door, slamming it shut and bolting it. When she turns around, George is standing at the bottom of the stairs, his face white as a sheet. Annie kneels beside Mitchell, who is starting to lose consciousness.

"Should we take the stake out?" Annie's voice seems to bring George back to himself, and he dives for the telephone. "GEORGE, HE'S DIEING!"

George's hands are shaking as he dials. "I'm calling an ambulance."

"Can they even _help him?_" Annie can feel herself losing it. Mitchell can't die. Not now. Not like this.

"I don't know, Annie!" George is frantic, "I don't know what else to _do!_"

George and Annie lock eyes over the prone body of their friend, and the pair make a silent pact. They will not give up on Mitchell. They will see him through this, and Herrick will pay for what he's done.

* * *

**_End chapter one! The funeral parlor scene was a NIGHTMARE to write. Herrick's dialogue is a pain. __**

**_Anyway, I hope you guys like it so far. Look for Lucian in the next installment! Please review! :)  
_**


	3. Time of Dying

**Chapter 3: Time of Dying**

_**On this bed I lay, losing everything**_  
_**I can see my life passing me by**_  
_**Was it all too much or just not enough**_  
_**Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare**_

_**I will not die**_  
_**I will survive**_

_**I will not die, I'll wait here for you**_  
_**I feel alive, when you're beside me**_  
_**I will not die, I'll wait here for you**_  
_**In my time of dying...**_

_**-Time of Dying by Three Days Grace**_

* * *

Annie sits in a hard plastic chair with her knees drawn up to her chest, staring at the flat line of a heart rate monitor. It was probably about the fifth or sixth one the nurses had tried to hook Mitchell up to before finally giving up, leaving it disconnected beside his bed. The whole business had made the last twenty four hours quite interesting for the doctors and nurses on staff at St. Jude's. While the wound in Mitchell's chest was healing _very_ rapidly, he had yet to regain consciousness. Annie marvels as Mitchell's chest continues to rise and fall rhythmically even with the absence of a pulse, but she takes comfort in the sight as it lets her know that he is still with them.

She looks up as George enters the room with what must be his eighth cup of coffee in his hand. He has kept constant vigil since last night, and she can see that it is taking its toll on him. She glances up at the clock on the wall. It's nearly three in the morning.

"George," Annie says, "do you really plan on going forty-eight hours without sleeping? I'll stay with Mitchell, why don't you go home? At least for a few hours."

He plops down in the chair near the door with a heavy sigh. "I'm not leaving him. Not when he's like this."

Annie rises from her chair and begins pacing the room. "That's what I don't _understand_," she says in frustration. "Why is he still like this? They've been pumping him full of blood. That's what he needs, isn't it? Why isn't he getting better?" She winds her fingers through her hair, tugging on the curls in exasperation. George sets his coffee down and crosses the room.

"I don't know, Annie," he says, putting his arms around her. "More than anything, I wish I had the answer."

"It's not enough."

Annie gives a startled gasp and George spins around in surprise. Neither heard the figure standing in the doorway approach.

"The blood," the stranger continues, unfazed, "there's not enough life in it. Not enough to bring him out of his current state."

George springs into action. He grabs the chair he'd been sitting in and holds it out in front of him, legs first, reminding Annie belatedly of a lion tamer. It would have been quite comical had the situation been different.

"Who are you," George demands, "what do you want?"

The man takes a step forward, clearly not seeing George as a threat. "I can help."

"You're a vampire," George responds, more as a statement than a question.

"Yes."

George shakes his head violently, "well, you're not going to go near him, you understand? You can tell Herrick to go to hell. You're not going to touch him!"

The man shakes his head, "I've no love for Herrick, I can assure you. He's been a thorn in my side for nearly half a century. Every time I get close to him, he flees to some new corner of the world," His eyes flick to the figure in the hospital bed, "but not this time. I will see to it that coward meets his end."

Annie takes in the figure standing before her. He is quite handsome, she sees now; tall, broad shouldered, yet he has elegant features. The way he carries himself makes her think that he has some military background in his past. Though it is his eyes that she finds the most striking. He is wearing a black trench coat open over a blue v-neck shirt, and the color does wonders to bring out his eyes. Beneath the dark hair, his eyes are a stunning blue. As if sensing her study of him, the man fixes her with his gaze and she realizes what else she found so striking. Though the man's appearance is fairly young, there is a sort of agelessness to his eyes. Looking into their depths, she feels as if this is a man who has seen all the wonders, and the horrors, of the world. She has seen a bit of that agelessness in Mitchell's eyes as well, but this is much more pronounced. This man is old, _very_ old. Probably the oldest person she has ever encountered, or ever will.

"George," she says, "maybe we should listen to him."

"Annie-" George objects, but he never finishes the thought. He hears a soft sound behind him and turns to see Mitchell stirring, as if caught in a bad dream. For a moment, George is torn between staying to guard the stranger and going to his friend, before ultimately deciding on the latter. He sets the chair down and goes to Mitchell's side.

Annie glances at the stranger in the doorway, trying to determine the threat, but the man seems rooted to the spot, gazing in George and Mitchell's direction. Just the same, Annie remains where she is so she can keep an eye on him, just in case.

"Hey," George soothes, resting a hand on Mitchell's arm. "Hey, mate. You alright?"

Suddenly, Mitchell's eyes snap open and he sits almost bolt upright, gripping George by the shoulder.

"They're coming," he gets out, breathing hard. George spares a quick glance to the man in the doorway. He has gone stock still.

"Downstairs," Mitchell continues, regaining George's full attention. "They're in the hospital." Spent, Mitchell collapses back onto the bed, closing his eyes.

"George!"

He turns to Annie and sees her staring through the now empty doorway. The man in the trench coat has disappeared.

"I think he's going down there." Annie locks eyes with George as a silent understanding passes between them.

He sighs, "I'm going after him," and he takes off running down the hallway.

"Be careful," Annie shouts, watching as he disappears around the corner.

George catches up to the tall figure just as the elevator doors are closing. He manages to get an arm in just in time, forcing the doors back open. Panting, George steps inside and pushes the "door close" button. The dark haired man quirks an eyebrow at him.

"Who are you," George asks, still trying to catch his breath, "I mean, really."

"My name is Lucian," he responds, "I am... an old friend of Mitchell's."

"An old friend," George echoes.

Lucian nods.

There is a pause. When Lucian doesn't elaborate, George finally asks, "So... can you really help him?"

The pair step off the elevator and Lucian reaches into an inner pocket of his coat, removing a fairly long, silver object. He studies it for a moment, twirling it between his fingers before dropping his hand and gripping the object tightly at his side. He looks George straight in the eye. "Absolutely."

Lucian starts down the hallway and George has to pick up the pace to keep up with his long strides. "So you're a werewolf," Lucian asks. Though is seems more of a statement than a question.

George nods. "Yeah, but I don't see what good that does us right now, even if there _was_ a full moon."

"Have you not yet mastered the ability to Change at will?"

George stops dead and stares at him, incredulously. "I...you..._what?_ I mean... you can _do that?_"

Lucian comes up short and turns to face him. "I'll take that as a no."

George just continues to stare.

He sighs. "Right then. You'll just have to stay out of the way. I'll definitely not have you trying to force a Change _now_. The last thing I need is a wild wolf loose in the hospital on top of some rogue vampires."

The pair pass through a set of double doors and find themselves at the head of a long, empty corridor.

"So, where are they?" George wonders aloud.

As if in response to his question, the lights in the hallway begin to flicker. George instinctively glances up at the light, and when he turns his gaze back to the end of the hall, he sees two suited figures approaching, fast.

"Stay behind me," Lucian says, and he takes a step towards the approaching figures.

"That's close enough," he warns, still gripping the silver object at his side.

The two men pause and glance at each other, not sure what to make of this unforeseen obstacle.

"I will give you one chance," he continues. "Turn back now, and I'll forget our paths ever crossed. Take one step closer," Lucian flicks his wrist, extending the silver object to a wicked point, "and I will see to it that they never do again."

There is a moments silence, as the opposing sides face off with one another. Then Herrick's men spring into action, both launching themselves at Lucian simultaneously.

George is stunned by their speed. As long as he's known Mitchell, he's never seen him in a real fight, especially not with another vampire. It's all almost too much for his eye to be able to follow. He wants to help, but he has no weapon, and they're all moving too fast for him to really jump in.

It really doesn't seem to matter, though. If Herrick's men are fast, they are no match for Lucian. He also seems much more adept at hand to hand combat than they are. Though the men attack from both sides, Lucian makes quick work of them. He drives his elbow into the man behind him, connecting with his head and sending him, stunned, into the opposite wall. The second makes a grab for the stake in his hand, only to have Lucian's fist connect with his jaw. He is sent sprawling and Lucian takes his opening, driving the stake through his heart. As the figure crumbles away to ash, the first man recovers himself and tries to flee. Lucian catches him by the shoulder, spinning him around to face him. He throws him back against the wall, lifting him about a foot off the ground by the throat.

"_Who are you-_" the man in the suit manages to croak out.

"My name is Lucian Harcourt. I have walked this earth for nearly a thousand years. I have killed more men, more _vampires_ than you have ever even _met_. I am going to spare your life for one reason, and one reason only. You are going to deliver a message for me. Tell Herrick that John Mitchell is under _my_ protection. Tell that coward if he wants Mitchell, he'll have to go through _me_." He releases the man abruptly and he falls to the ground in stunned silence.

"If you value your continued existence, you will seriously reconsider where your loyalties lie. Should our paths cross again and you find yourself on the wrong side, I will not be so lenient. _Now GO!_"

The man scrambles to his feet and takes off running down the hallway. Lucian doesn't take his eyes off of him until he has disappeared out the door and into the night.

George takes a tentative step forward, eyeing Lucian cautiously as he replaces the silver stake in the inside pocket of this coat.

Lucian turns around and looks at George, as if just remembering he's there. He starts toward the elevators, giving George a brief pat on the shoulder as he passes. "Come on. We need to get back upstairs."

George nods dumbly and turns to follow, hard on Lucian's heels. They take the elevator up in silence.

* * *

Annie gets up from her place beside Mitchell's bed as George and Lucian enter the room. She shoots George a questioning look and goes to stand by his side as Lucian removes his coat and drapes it over the chair by the door before crossing the room to Mitchell's bedside.

"George, what's going on? What happened downstairs?" She searches his face.

"It's been," he glances at Lucian, "dealt with."

"Who is he," Annie asks, following George's gaze.

"He says his name is Lucian. He's... 'an old friend' of Mitchell's." George pauses, lowering his voice, "I think he really is here to help."

Annie looks uncertain. "Are you sure we can trust him?"

George laughs nervously. "Believe me, Annie. If he was here to hurt Mitchell, he would've done it by now."

Annie turns to watch the figure now seated at the edge of Mitchell's bed, and is surprised by what she sees. Whereas before she had found him rather imposing and intimidating, his whole demeanor has changed. There is a softness to his features now; in the set of his shoulders, and in his face as he gazes down at the figure lying on the bed. Lucian places a hand to the side of Mitchell's face in an affectionate gesture, and suddenly Annie feels herself relax.

She glances at George, then takes a small step forward and ventures to speak. "Can you really help him?"

Lucian takes his hand back and sits up straight. "He's been like this for too long," he says, still studying Mitchell's face. Lucian rises and begins pacing the room, rubbing his hands over his face, looking suddenly weary. "After losing so much blood, he needs more from a fresh source to revive him. Fresh from a human would be the most ideal-"

"Mitchell wouldn't do that," Annie interjects. "He wouldn't."

"And nor would I," Lucian responds. "There might be another way." He crosses to the chair by the door and begins searching the pockets of his coat. After a moment, he rises, holding a small blade in his hand. "My blood won't do as well as a human's, but I am much older, and much stronger than most vampires. It might be enough to bring him back, and that's all we need."

George and Annie watch in stunned silence as Lucian returns to the side of Mitchell's bed. He takes the blade and slices it across his wrist, starting the flow of blood.

Annie covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp, and moves to stand closer to George, looping her arm through his.

Lucian adjusts Mitchell and presses the bleeding wound to his lips.

"Come on," he says when there is no response, "come on, I know you're still in there."

Suddenly, Mitchell's eyes fly open and he grips Lucian's arm, sinking his fangs into the bleeding wrist.

Lucian sets his jaw, but he doesn't pull away, instead sliding his free hand behind Mitchell's head for support.

The moments pass, and Annie begins to worry that Lucian won't be able to hold out much longer, but he makes no move to pull away. She is about to speak when Mitchell suddenly comes back to himself. He abruptly releases Lucian's arm and practically leaps from the bed, pulling the lines out of his arm where he's standing. The wounds heal almost instantly.

Lucian slumps over, still sitting on the side of the bed, breathing heavily. Mitchell crawls back across the bed and grips him by the shoulders.

"_What the hell were you thinking?_"

A small smile escapes Lucian's lips. "It worked, didn't it?"

Mitchell shakes his head. "You shouldn't have done that. You gave too much." He tightens his grip on Lucian's shoulders, digging his fingers into the fabric of his shirt. "You _always_ give too much."

Lucian doesn't say a word. Instead, he reaches over and pulls the younger man into an embrace. Mitchell all but collapses against him, burying his face in his shoulder.

After a moment, Lucian releases him. "Come on," he begins, "we need to get you out of here. I'm sure you've raised enough questions already."

* * *

Early the next morning, George convinces Nina to get Mitchell released from the hospital. She is not at all pleased with the situation, nor about the fact that he pulled the lines out himself, though no one can explain how the wounds healed so quickly. In the end they all feel that the hospital is just relieved to see him go.

They get Mitchell home without incident and set him up in his room. Though he's healing well, he is still weak and very sore.

That afternoon, he is lying in bed propped up on some pillows, Lucian sitting in a chair on one side, and Annie seated on the bed next to him on the other.

"So, how did you end up getting involved with Herrick again?" Lucian asks. "Herrick may have no sense of honor, but I can't imagine there wasn't some sort of motivation for this attack."

"Yes, thank you," George says, as he takes a seat at the edge of Mitchell's bed. "That is exactly what I've been wanting to know."

Mitchell gives George a pointed look, but after a pause he sighs in defeat. He launches into his story, recounting the events of the last couple of days. He begins with the auburn-haired girl that was brought in to the hospital, and his encounter with Herrick there. For Lucian's benefit, he explains that Herrick had first come into town a few months ago, and that he had managed to completely avoid him until the incident at the hospital. He recounts the meeting at the funeral parlor and all that was said, Herrick's threat to him before he left, and ultimately the resulting attack.

George and Annie are furious.

"AND YOU DIDN'T _SAY_ ANYTHING," Annie cries, smacking his shoulder.

"OW! _Annie_," he whines.

"_Honestly_, Mitchell," George interjects, "you should have told us. You could have _died_, for God's sake!"

"I didn't want to get you involved," Mitchell responds. He averts his eyes, and his voice drops to a hoarse whisper, "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."

"No," George replies, folding his arms across his chest, "you just almost got _yourself_ killed instead."

"Alright, that's enough," Lucian cuts in before anyone else can perpetuate the argument. "What's done is done and it can't be changed." He crosses the room to the window and leans on the sill, looking out. "What matters now is where we go from here."

They are all quiet for a moment until Annie chooses to break the silence. "So, what happens now?"

Lucian turns back to face them, folding his arms across his chest. Annie sees the soldier in him again in the set of his shoulders. He looks dangerous, but she no longer fears for her friends. She only marvels at how _anyone_ would ever dare to cross him.

Lucian speaks with renewed purpose. "We need to decide how we're going to deal with Herrick."

* * *

**_This was quite possibly my favorite chapter. The scene with Lucian and Mitchell in the hospital room was the first idea I had, which sparked the entire story. I hope I succeeded in giving Lucian some more depth here. He is definitely a complex character. The next chapter focuses on how Mitchell and Lucian met, which will hopefully give more insight into their relationship._**

**_I would like to extend a special thank you to my sister (tumblr user dwarfqueenbaena) for being my sounding board as well as helping me work out some of the particulars of Lucian's background from a historical sense._**

**_It has been my head canon from the start that his origins date back to around the first Crusade. I have finally settled on the year of his birth as being 1068; which is shortly after the Norman Invasion. My canon is that his father was one of the Norman invaders who settled in England, and so that is where Lucian has always considered home. I had quite a time trying to decide on his surname and I'm a little proud of myself for what I came up with, lol! (You don't understand, naming characters is like naming my children for me. :P)_**

**_I borrowed the name Harcourt from an old family which actually has ties to the Norman Invasion. (Search "House of Harcourt" on wikipedia if you'd like to see the article I referenced.) The English branch of the Harcourt family first obtained English land in Leicestershire following the Invasion, and incidentally, that is where Richard Armitage is from. So there you have my rationale for the name choice!_**

**_By the way, if you haven't heard the song I referenced in the beginning, you should give it a listen. I was tempted to include ALL of the lyrics because it's a perfect fit in its entirety._**

**_Thanks for reading. Please review! :)_**


	4. Life Starts Now

**_I forgot to mention when I originally posted this that the events of this story take place in 2009; as they did in the series. It is important to note this for the sake of the timeline that this chapter gets into. Just wanted to avoid any confusion there._**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Life Starts Now**

** _I hate to see you fall down,_ **  
** _ I'll pick you up off the ground,_ **  
** _ I've watched the weight of_ **  
** _ Your world come down_ **  
** _ And now it's your chance_ **  
** _ To move on, change the way you've lived for so long,_ **  
** _ Find the strength you've had inside all along_ **

** _ Cause life starts now,_ **  
** _ You've done all the things_ **  
** _ That could kill you somehow_ **  
** _ And you're so far down_ **  
** _ But you will survive this_ **  
** _ Somehow because_ **  
** _ Life starts now_ **

** _- Life Starts Now by Three Days Grace_ **

* * *

Mitchell and Lucian are still talking long after the sun goes down. George, who has hardly slept in two days, reluctantly decides to head to bed. Mitchell is still recovering as well, and is finally overcome with exhaustion. He falls asleep around two in the morning, but Lucian refuses to leave his side.

He has moved a chair over by the window and now sits resting his chin on his hand, staring out into the night. Annie pulls over a couple of crates that are stacked in the room and takes a seat across from him. Lucian quirks an eyebrow at her.

Annie grins sheepishly. "I just thought... seeing as you're not sleeping and I _never_ sleep, maybe we could... talk?"

He gives her a bemused look. "What do you want to talk about?"

Annie leans forward in her seat, clearly pleased with the positive response. "How do you and Mitchell know each other?"

Lucian smiles at this, expecting the question. "That," he says, "is a long story."

Annie gestures out the window. "We've got all night."

Lucian pauses, thinking it over. Annie scoots her crates closer, propping her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, looking up at him expectantly.

He laughs a little at how childish she looks. "All right," he gives in. He spares a glance at Mitchell, who is _very_ asleep now, and his eyes are distant. When he turns back, his expression is serious. "What do you know of Mitchell's past?"

Annie considers the question a moment before giving her answer. "I know he was fighting in the war. The _first_ one," she amends, "the Great War when... when it happened. I know it was Herrick that did it."

Lucian gives her a solemn nod. "Anything else?"

Annie shifts uncomfortably, suddenly realizing just how little she actually knows. "He doesn't like to talk about it," she continues. "When I ask him, he just says that he's done bad things; he's hurt people in his past."

Annie comes to a sudden realization and she meets Lucian's gaze. "He said he was in a bad place, and that someone helped him. Someone he owes his life... He was talking about you, wasn't he?"

Lucian only offers a small smile.

Annie leans toward him. "What happened? How did you meet?"

"We met in London," Lucian begins. "It was 1969."

* * *

Lucian walks a quiet London street at dawn and the clear morning skies and birdsong could not be more opposite of his current mood. Lucian is furious.

He's been tailing a pair of rogue vampires since Rome, and they've managed to slip past him again. By the time he learned the fugitives had left the club with a few girls last night, he knew he would arrive too late. Those girls were long dead by now.

He glances down at the slip of paper in his hand, the address he'd managed to scare out of one of the party-goers, and compares the numbers to the house in front of him. This is it. He sees the empty driveway and curses, knowing the pair had been driving. Lucian ascends the front steps and enters the building, determined to see what he can find.

The house is actually a small apartment building with a central staircase winding up three stories, each landing with a separate door. Though the sun is fairly high in the sky now, he can still feel that his senses are a bit heightened, likely due to adrenaline. As he ascends the stairs, he catches the unmistakable scent of blood... and bleach. He can hear hurried movement over head; there's someone upstairs.

When he gets about halfway up, he hears the door open off the top floor landing, and heavy footsteps on the stairs heading down fast. He looks around, but there's nowhere for him to go. He climbs the last few steps and stops on the middle floor landing, ready to spring into action if necessary. A male figure appears on the landing above him, too focused on buttoning his suit jacket to notice Lucian right away. He appears to be in his early twenties, with longish brown hair tucked behind his ears in a modern fashion. He finally looks up just as he's about to descend the next set of stairs, and his brown eyes connect with steel blue. He stops dead, all the color draining from his face in recognition.

Lucian grins, _Gotcha._

"Shit!" The young man suddenly comes to his senses, turns and bolts back up the stairs, Lucian hard on his heels.

He reaches the top floor landing, but there's nowhere to go. Before he can make it to the window, Lucian has him in an iron grip with his back against the wall.

"I know you haven't been working alone. Where is Herrick?" he demands.

The man shakes his head. "I don't know! He was gone when I got up this morning."

"What, so he just left you here to clean up the mess then? Where's he gone?"

Again, the man shakes his head. "I don't know."

Lucian curses, releasing him with a shove, confident he won't try to run this time. He knows that Herrick is the one primarily responsible and he's angry that he managed to lose him again. But what he really can't understand is why Herrick would leave his comrade behind.

Suddenly, Lucian can hear police sirens coming up the street. He looks out the window as two squad cars pull into the driveway, and swears. When he looks back, he finds the young man sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. "What's your name?" Lucian asks.

"Mitchell," is the reply, "John Mitchell."

Lucian studies his face. His eyes are glassy and Lucian knows he's still coming down from the high of the latest kill. In fact, going by his haggard appearance, Lucian wonders when he last came down _at all_. He makes a decision.

"Well then, John Mitchell," he reaches down and pulls him off the floor by the arm, "looks like today's your lucky day. You're coming with me."

* * *

A week later, Lucian finds himself holed up in his apartment with a young vampire going through serious withdrawal. He had nearly forgotten how like a drug addict a rogue vampire could be after so long without a kill, and he was beginning to realize that Mitchell had most definitely never gone this long.

Lucian knew that, by right, he should have killed him when he caught him. Herrick and Mitchell had certainly caused enough trouble to deserve it, but there was something about Mitchell that caused him to stay his hand.

Being as old and as powerful as he was, Lucian was well connected in many parts of the world. He had eyes anywhere and everywhere he needed, in London especially. For this reason, he knew that Herrick never made any effort to return for his comrade. He was long gone. It was a phenomenon that gave Lucian pause to think that maybe he had made the right decision after all.

The relationship between a vampire and their Sire is usually a strong bond; much like a parent and child. It is the responsibility of a Sire to teach the one they Turn everything they need to know about their new condition. They must teach them how to feed properly; the appropriate sources and how to find them from place to place. They must also teach them the laws of their kind and their history. The decision to Turn someone is not to be taken lightly, as it is a huge responsibility.

Lucian had been especially close to his own Sire before he died. There was nothing the two would not do for each other. The fact that Herrick, who was in fact Mitchell's Sire, would so easily abandon him disturbed Lucian.

Though, the more information he gleaned from Mitchell in his current state, the more he began to realize just how little Herrick _had_ done right by his charge.

Mitchell knew nothing of his own kind. He didn't know the laws, and he had never really come down long enough to give too much thought to his actions. He was a slave to the blood lust and Herrick had pretty well kept him that way for the last fifty years.

The more Mitchell began to come down, the more he began to remember details of his life since he became a vampire. He was haunted by the remembered faces of his victims over the years. The memories drove him to despair, and it was only Lucian's constant companionship, and his assurances that this phase would pass, that kept him from ending his own life.

Lucian kept him in constant supply of blood from the local hospital. It helped to take the edge off his withdrawal, and Mitchell went through a lot of it. It was most likely due to Lucian's status that he was able to obtain more blood than their people at the hospital should have normally been allowed to provide. He wanted to do as much as he could for Mitchell, sometimes giving up some of his own supply, as he was able to sustain much longer without it.

After about three weeks, Mitchell finally began to stabilize, at least on the physical level. He stopped having the visions and his nightmares became much less frequent. Lucian was finally beginning to see the person that had been buried beneath the blood lust for so many years.

One evening, Lucian walks in from another supply trip to the hospital to find Mitchell curled up in the window seat, gazing out over the city. He closes the door behind him and walks to the kitchen in silence, depositing the new supply in the refrigerator. As he removes his jacket and steps into the living room, Mitchell breaks the silence.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but when he turns his gaze to Lucian, his eyes are clear. More clear than Lucian has ever seen them. "Why are you helping me?"

Lucian sets down his jacket and grabs a chair from the dining room, placing it across from Mitchell's seat in the window. He sits down and leans forward in the chair, meeting Mitchell's gaze. "Do you not think that I should help you?"

Mitchell averts his gaze and starts picking at a loose thread on his pant leg. "I don't think I deserve to be saved," is the mumbled reply.

Lucian decides to seize his chance. He knows that if he can really get him talking, they can start to make some real progress. "Why not?"

Mitchell stares at him. "Because of everything I've _done_. How can I ever hope to come back from that?"

"But you are coming back," he counters. "Can you honestly say that you are the same person you were three weeks ago?"

Mitchell shakes his head. "It's not enough."

"Why?"

Mitchell can offer no response, and so after a pause Lucian continues. "Do you understand forgiveness?"

He scoffs. "You can't earn forgiveness for the things I've done..."

Lucian shakes his head. "Then you do not understand. Mitchell, you can't undo what's already been done. What you _can_ do is learn from the past and let that be your driving force to make you a better person. You are who you choose to be in the present. That is all that matters now."

He doesn't look entirely convinced, but Lucian can tell that he's made some breakthrough. "That still doesn't really answer my question," he says after a moment.

"And what is that?" Lucian asks.

"Why are you helping me?"

Lucian smiles. "I suppose I'm going soft in my old age," he says with a laugh. He considers the young man before him, trying to determine for himself what it was about Mitchell that brought him to this point. "Honestly," he continues, his voice serious, "at first I wasn't quite sure. I suppose... it's because I believe in second chances. I believe that if someone _wants_ to change, they should be given that opportunity. I don't think you were given enough of a chance at the start. Herrick didn't even teach you the basics. Instead, he made you completely dependent on him. He used you."

Mitchell turns his face away, trying to hide the tears that are welling up in his eyes. "I didn't know where else to go..."

"I know that." Lucian moves closer, resting a hand on the younger man's arm. Mitchell tenses, but makes no move to pull away. For a moment, neither of them speak.

When Mitchell finally breaks the silence, Lucian is surprised by the edge to his voice. "He left me for dead, didn't he?"

Lucian sits back in his chair, giving him a questioning look, though he's pretty sure he knows where this is going.

"Herrick," Mitchell continues, his voice bitter. "He was gone long before you showed up. He knew you were coming, didn't he? He knew what you planned to do when you found us, and he left me there just the same. Left me to take the fall for him. He only ever cared about saving his own skin." He locks eyes with Lucian. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Lucian meets his gaze and sighs, shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry."

It was all Mitchell needed to hear. He buries his face in his hands, breathing hard, trying to control his anger. He quickly loses the battle and punches the wall across from him as hard as he can, leaving a dent in the plaster and his knuckles bruised and bloody.

Lucian jumps up with the intent of grabbing him before he does further damage, but it seems that was all the energy Mitchell had to spend. He collapses back in his seat, burying his face in his knees and clenching his fists in his hair.

For a moment, Lucian is at a loss, not sure whether he should stay or give Mitchell some space as the younger man's shoulders begin to shake with sobs. He decides on the former, taking a seat next to him as best as he can in the small space. He gently untangles Mitchell's fists from his hair and pulls him toward him. Mitchell collapses against his shoulder and latches onto him like a life line. The two stay like this as Mitchell's tears continue to flow in earnest and Lucian closes his eyes, holding him tighter. Nothing remains to be said.

* * *

When he made that split second decision to take Mitchell in on that fateful morning in London, Lucian never could have imagined just how much it would change the course of his life. The pair stayed together for the most part over the years, moving from place to place. Occasionally, Lucian would get called away, sometimes leaving Mitchell on his own for weeks or months at a time. He always came back, though, and Mitchell had come a long way from his time with Herrick and was doing well.

In 1996, Lucian receives a call from a contact in New York, asking him to come urgently. Though he doesn't offer Mitchell very many details, he makes it clear that he will be gone indefinitely. Mitchell has been clean for 27 years at this point, and though he is reluctant to leave him, Lucian feels that this is Mitchell's chance to make it on his own.

In spite of the distance, Lucian keeps tabs on Mitchell via various contacts throughout Europe. He is pleased to learn that Mitchell went on to Dublin. After more than half a century, it would be good for him to go home, even if just for a little while.

The situation in New York takes up much more time than Lucian anticipated. With so few of the Old Ones left, keeping order in the vampire world has become a real challenge. Too few know the laws anymore, or don't have enough accountability to anyone to care. He spends nearly two years clearing out rogue clans in New York before he is finally able to return to Europe.

The following year finds him traversing much of Eastern Europe for the same cause. He thinks of Mitchell often and still keeps a close eye on him from afar. Things were pretty quiet in that regard until one day, in the middle of December 1999, he learns that Mitchell has abruptly left Dublin and relocated to Vienna with very little explanation to those he was in contact with. Lucian puts a in a call to his old friend, Carl, whom he knows has been living in Vienna with his partner. Carl promises to alert Lucian to any major developments.

On December 31st, Lucian receives the dreaded call. _How fast can you get to Vienna?_ He makes the normally two and a half hour drive from Budapest in half the time.

Lucian arrives at the high rise apartment in Vienna just before midnight. The streets are filled with revelers ready to welcome in the new century. He presses the call button for an apartment on the tenth floor, and Carl's partner, Dan, invites him up.

Carl is waiting by the door when he arrives and greets him with a hug. When they separate, Carl's expression is grim.

"What happened," is Lucian's immediate question.

Carl sighs. "You're lucky I'm the one who found him," he begins, guiding his guest to a couple of seats in the front room. "It was just after ten o'clock, most of the parties were really just getting started. Mitchell was already _very_ drunk. I found him in a back alley with a young women. I only just got to her in time..."

He trails off and Lucian buries his face in his hands. He takes a steadying breath and sits up slowly, meeting Carl's gaze. "Is she alright?"

Carl offers a weak smile and nods. "Yes. Dan took her to the hospital while I... dealt with Mitchell. He got back just before you arrived. She's going to be fine. He said that the woman was quite drunk herself. She probably won't remember a thing."

Lucian nods, relieved. Then his expression darkens. "Where is he?"

Carl nods his understanding and rises from his seat. "I will take you to him."

Lucian stands and follows Carl from the room. He is led to a door at the end of the hall where Carl pauses and glances at him expectantly. At a nod from Lucian, he eases open the door.

Mitchell is seated, shirtless, in the center of the room with his wrists bound behind the back of the chair. As Carl moves into his line of site, he lets loose with a series of curses and threats aimed at his captor.

"Such language, Mitchell," Carl says, unfazed, as he kneels down to eye level.

"Piss off!" Mitchell is breathing hard, putting all of his strength against the bonds.

"I brought you a visitor." Carl stands and takes a step back as Lucian enters the room. As Lucian enters Mitchell's field of vision, the younger man pales visible.

"Thank you, Carl," he says. "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Of course," Carl replies, making his way out of the room. Lucian nods his thanks as the door is pulled closed between them and he is left alone with his charge.

He moves to stand directly in front of Mitchell, folding his arms across his chest. "Now then," he begins. "Would you care to explain to me what the hell is going on?"

Mitchell stares at the opposite wall, refusing to meet his gaze. "Like you care," is the barely audible reply.

Lucian raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Where have you been, then?" Mitchell's eyes are glassy when he finally meets his gaze, and Lucian realizes that he's no good for any real conversation until he's sober, but he keeps on anyway. He's too angry and upset at this point to care.

"I was in Budapest, if you must know," he answers.

"For the last _three years?_" Lucian only stares at him as he continues. "I haven't so much as heard from you in three years, and _now_ you want to act like you care?"

"Don't start with that," he shoots back. "You're acting like a petulant child. You've done just _fine_ on your own until tonight, and I want to know what has changed."

"You _abandoned_ me-"

"That is not true!" He leans forward, placing his hands on the arms of the chair. Mitchell turns his face away, and suddenly Lucian feels all of his anger dissipate, replaced by something else... regret.

He heaves a sigh and when he speaks there is a softness to his voice. "You know how far my responsibilities often take me. I don't always have control of where I go or how long I'm gone. But I have always kept tabs on you and made sure that someone was there everywhere you've been."

When Mitchell still refuses to look at him, Lucian kneels down and cups his chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze. "I have not abandoned you."

Mitchell only stares with unfocused eyes and Lucian rises with a sigh. There is no point in further conversation tonight.

The noise of the gathered crowd outside the window reaches a sudden crescendo and he can hear fireworks in the distance. He glances at the clock on the wall: midnight. He moves to the window and looks out over the city, taking in the liveliness of the people gathered in the streets_. And so begins_ _another century_. "Happy New Year," he breathes to the night.

* * *

With Lucian there to manage him if necessary, Carl feels it's safe to release Mitchell from his bonds. The younger man is pretty out of it at this point anyway, and he passes out in one of the spare bedrooms around one o'clock in the morning. Lucian stays with him through the night, seated in a chair by the window.

Around eight o'clock in the morning, Lucian is dozing in his chair when Mitchell suddenly sits bolt upright in bed, breathing hard. He scans the room frantically, trying to determine his surroundings, until his eyes come to rest on the man by the window. He stares in disbelief. "Lucian?"

He rises from his chair and crosses the room, taking a seat at the end of Mitchell's bed. "How much do you remember of last night?"

Mitchell stares in confusion before sudden realization dawns and he buries his face in his hands. His voice is hoarse when he speaks. "The woman... is she-"

"She'll be fine." Lucian assures him. "Carl's partner took her to the hospital. Lucky for you, she was about as drunk as you were last night. She probably won't remember a thing."

Mitchell nods, clearly relieved. "Carl... the other vampire. He's the one who found me?"

"Yes," he answers. "I put in a call to Carl when I found out you left Dublin in such a hurry. I knew he was in Vienna and I asked him to keep an eye on you for me. He's the one who called me last night." He pauses, giving him a measured look. "What happened, Mitchell?"

Mitchell sighs, looking utterly defeated. He runs his fingers through his hair. "Where do I even start?"

"Why did you leave Dublin?" Lucian prompts.

He takes a breath. "It was going great. The last couple of years I made a few friends, kept out of trouble, just... _lived_. Then, a little over a month ago, I started hearing rumors. Everyone was talking about a rogue vampire in town; somebody stirring up trouble. I didn't worry about it too much, I figured someone would deal with it soon enough and it would be old news. Then I finally heard the name. It was Herrick. I knew it would only be a matter of time before he came looking for me, and I didn't know what to do, so I panicked. I left town without breathing a word to anyone as to where I was going or why. I'm not really sure how I ended up in Vienna. When I left, I just sort of didn't stop. I didn't know anyone and I didn't know where to go. Then, last night, I just sort of got lost in it all; New Year's Eve, the people, the parties... I _knew_ I shouldn't drink like that, but I'd been running for so long... I guess I finally just lost control."

He trails off, staring at his hands in his lap, refusing to meet Lucian's eye. Lucian considers all that was said. "Your friends in Dublin," he begins, "why didn't you tell them what was going on? Why didn't you ask for help?"

Mitchell shakes his head. "They didn't know about my past. It's not exactly something I'm proud of. I didn't think they'd feel the same about me if I told them..."

"You should have reached out to me-"

"How could I?" Mitchell cuts him off, and now he meets his gaze. "I haven't heard from you in three years, I didn't even know where you were."

"There is a network in place. I've told you how to reach me when I'm traveling. You _know_ I would've come back." Lucian trails off as that feeling washes over him again; guilt.

Mitchell recognizes the change in him and he sighs, feeling his own guilt. "It doesn't matter," he begins. "It's been thirty years. It's not your job to deal with my problems. It never really was..."

Lucian reaches over, resting his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "That was _never_ how I felt about you. You are not another _job _for me to deal with." He releases Mitchell with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face, feeling suddenly weary. "I'm sorry I've not kept in touch," he continues. "I _have_ been dealing with a lot, but that's not an excuse. The truth is, I wanted to give you a chance to be your own person; to make it on your own. I was afraid of making you too dependent on me, the way Herrick did, and I didn't want to do that."

Mitchell shakes his head. "You're nothing like Herrick-"

"If I didn't allow you to be your own person I would have been," he continues, "but I should not have been so distant. As far as last night, we can be grateful things didn't go a lot worse, and there's a lesson to be learned here. You've done well in managing this over the years, but it will always be something you have to deal with, and you can't do that on your own. It's too easy to lose yourself when you don't have anyone to have some sort of accountability towards, no matter how strong you are."

Lucian hears movement outside the door, and he realizes that Carl and Dan must be up and about by now. "Come on," he says, indicating the bureau beside the bed, "there's a change of clothes for you in there. Get yourself cleaned up and we'll talk about next steps."

Mitchell gives a solemn nod and Lucian exits the room, seeking their hosts.

He finds them both in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, and Carl greets him as he enters the room. "How is he," he asks.

"Much better than last night," Lucian responds, offering a small smile. "I can't thank you enough for that. Both of you," he adds with a nod in Dan's direction. "It was no small thing and I am grateful."

"We're just glad we could help," Dan offers with a smile.

"Do you know what happened," Carl asks. "I know that you said he'd not had an incident in almost thirty years. What changed all that?"

The three move to sit at the table and Lucian fills them in on everything Mitchell told him, also further explaining his own involvement with Mitchell over the past three decades. When he's finished, he feels even more exhausted than he did before.

"So what happens now," Carl asks.

Lucian pauses a moment, coming to a decision. "I have to deal with Herrick," he says, finally. "Neither Mitchell nor I have heard anything from him in almost thirty years. If he's on the move again, I need to go after him. I've let him go too long."

"What about Mitchell," Carl interjects. "You can't take him with you when you do this, it's too close."

Lucian sighs. "What do you suggest I do?"

Carl and Dan exchange a meaningful look, seemingly coming to some sort of silent agreement.

"He could stay with us," Carl begins. "Even just for a while; until he can figure out what he wants to do. We'll make sure he's in a good place when he's ready to move on from there."

"I couldn't ask that of you," Lucian says, looking from one to the other in disbelief. "You've already done more than enough."

"It's what you do for your friends, Lucian." Carl's tone brooks no argument. "Besides, it seems to me that Herrick is at the root of all of this. I don't think that either of you will be completely whole until that issue gets resolved."

Before Lucian can protest further, he hears footsteps in the hall as Mitchell moves into the doorway. He stops there, looking uncertain, until his gaze comes to rest on Lucian, who nods his encouragement.

Mitchell clears his throat. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused last night," he begins, "I was... not myself. It should never have happened." He trails off, staring at his shoes.

Carl breaks the uncomfortable silence as he rises and crosses the room to Mitchell, Dan close behind. "Well, no _permanent_ harm done," he says, clapping Mitchell on the back. He extends a hand, "Carl, and this is my partner, Dan."

"You're human," Mitchell says with surprise as he shakes hands with Dan.

"Yes," Dan laughs, sparing Carl a meaningful glance. "We're... still in discussion."

"Right, sorry. What I mean is," Mitchell takes a breath, shaking his head at his own loss for words, "thank you, _both_ of you, for what you did."

Carl waves him off. "Any friend of Lucian's is a friend of ours."

Mitchell glances past the pair and meets his friend's gaze. Lucian smiles.

* * *

The four of them make idle conversation through breakfast and much of the morning. Lucian is pleased to see Mitchell getting along so well with the pair, and he exchanges a meaningful look with Carl. This may work out after all.

Early in the afternoon, Mitchell catches Lucian in the spare bedroom, gathering his things. He stands frozen in the doorway. "You're leaving."

Lucian looks up from his work and takes in Mitchell's appearance with a sigh. He beckons him in and Mitchell pulls the door closed behind him and takes a seat at the end of the bed. "Were you even going to tell me?"

"Of course I was," Lucian begins, taking a seat next to him.

"So where this time?"

"Dublin." Mitchell looks at him is surprise. "I'm going after Herrick."

"Then I'm going with you."

Lucian shakes his head. "You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too close, Mitchell. You know this."

Mitchell stares at his hands in his lap. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Carl and Dan said that you can stay here as long as you need. Carl is an old friend of mine, he'll be a good friend to you. And when you're ready to move on, he'll help you there." Lucian lays a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Mitchell can think of nothing else to say.

As the sun begins to set, Lucian stands at the front door, bag in hand, getting ready to depart. Dan shakes his hand, wishing him luck, and Carl gives him a hug, promising to look after his charge. Lucian gives his thanks, and the pair stand aside so that Mitchell can say goodbye.

For a moment, he seems frozen where he stands, staring at the floor. Lucian sets his bag down and takes a step toward him, and it's all the push that Mitchell needs. He closes the distance between them and Lucian pulls him into his arms, resting a hand on his head as Mitchell buries his face in his shoulder.

After a moment, Lucian breaks away, holding him at arm's length. "Listen to me," he says, placing a hand on either side of Mitchell's face, "I am not leaving you alone, do you understand? Just stay close to people who care about you and _you will be fine_. And," he leans in, pressing their foreheads together, "I will _always_ be there when you need me. No matter what happens. I promise."

Lucian hugs him one last time before finally letting him go. He picks up his bag and reaches for the door, taking one last look behind him. Carl has stepped forward and his hand now rests on Mitchell's shoulder. He locks eyes with Lucian, who breathes a little easier. With one final farewell, he opens the door and heads out into the night.

* * *

Annie's eyes are shining when Lucian stops speaking just as the sky outside begins to turn grey with the approach of dawn. His gaze is fixed on the sleeping figure on the other side of the room, and she can tell he has not yet returned to the present.

"So, that's where you've been the last ten years," she asks, reluctantly breaking him out of his reverie. "You've been chasing after Herrick."

Blue eyes now focus in her direction. "Not entirely," he says. "I wish I could say that I _had_ been able to devote that much time to the task. Though, if I had, Herrick would not still be here, I can assure you." Lucian explains further. "I am one of the oldest of my kind, and that bears a lot of responsibility. Every time I managed to get close to Herrick, he fled, or I was called away to a more urgent matter. At least, more 'urgent' to those of my order. Herrick has, comparably, not caused as much trouble over the last several years to be easy enough to track, or to give enough justification to my cause. I've been forced to attend to other matters in between."

"What about Mitchell," Annie asks. "Have you not spoken in all that time?"

"I've kept in contact as much as I could," he answers. "There have been times that I have had to keep communication to a minimum so that I could not be tracked. I couldn't jeopardize what I was doing, but I have always kept tabs on him and at least left messages when I could. In answer to your question, this is the first time we've actually seen each other in almost ten years."

Across the room, Mitchell stirs, and as Annie turns in his direction, she worries that he is in pain. Before she can make a move, however, Lucian is already halfway across the room. He sits on the side of the bed, smoothing out the covers, and runs a hand through Mitchell's hair. Annie smiles fondly as the sound of Mitchell's breathing lets her know that he has fallen back into a deep sleep.

"I should have been there," Lucian says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have stayed away. None of this would have happened."

Annie takes a step toward him. "You saved his life, Lucian."

"It should never have come to that." Lucian looks utterly defeated as his gaze rests on the sleeping form.

Annie moves to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're here now," she says. "That's all that matters."

* * *

**_So there it is! I hope it wasn't too angsty for you guys. :P_**

**_Please share your thoughts!_**


	5. Lights Out

**Chapter 5: Lights Out  
**

_**Now you want to take me down**_  
_** As if I even care**_  
_** I am the monster in your head**_  
_** And I thought you'd learn by now**_  
_** It seems you haven't yet**_  
_** I am the venom in your skin**_  
_** And now your life**_  
_** Is broken**_

_** After the lights go out on you**_  
_** After your worthless life is through**_  
_** I will remember how you scream**_  
_** I can't afford to care**_  
_** I can't afford to care**_

**_- Lights Out by Breaking Benjamin_ **

* * *

It is early in the afternoon when Mitchell opens his eyes and the house is surprisingly quiet. He lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as he reflects on the events of the past few days. He takes a deep breath, relieved when he discovers that it no longer pains him to do so. Feeling confident, he sits up in bed, now realizing that he's not alone in the room. As he glances to his right, he sees Lucian slumped in a chair beside the bed, fast asleep.

Mitchell swings his legs over the side of the bed and reaches out a hand, shaking his shoulder. "Lucian?"

Lucian stirs, then suddenly jerks awake, his eyes scanning the room for any threat before finally coming to rest on Mitchell. He relaxes visibly, passing a hand over his face. "I must have dozed off." He searches Mitchell's face. "How are you feeling?"

He nods absently. "Grand."

Lucian doesn't seem wholly convinced, but he offers a small smile. "Good."

"You know," Mitchell says, watching him stand and stretch, trying to rub out the kink in his neck, "you could've crashed on the couch. It would've been a lot more comfortable than that chair."

Lucian smirks at him, "I hadn't really planned on sleeping."

Mitchell stands, turning to face him. "Yeah well, you didn't have to stay up and stand guard or whatever. I think it's safe inside the house."

Lucian meets his gaze, his expression unreadable. He opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly seems to think better of it. He pats Mitchell on the shoulder, picks up his bag, and silently exits the room.

About an hour later, everyone has had a chance to get cleaned up and they all gather downstairs. Annie insists on making everyone breakfast, even if it is the middle of the afternoon, and busies herself about the kitchen. When they're all finished, she shoos them out to the living room with their coffee so that she can finish cleaning up.

"Is she always like this," Lucian asks with amusement.

Mitchell shakes his head, "Nah, but we don't exactly have company over very often so..."

"Nor is it every day that one of us almost _dies_," George interjects, giving Mitchell a pointed look.

"She's quite fond of making tea though," he continues, ignoring the comment. "I mean loads of the stuff. I came home the other night and she had nearly every surface of the house _covered_ in mugs of tea!" He laughs. "She says it makes her feel normal."

"Yeah, speaking of _the other night_," George persists, "who's to say Herrick won't try again? I mean if he's 'raising an army,' what's to stop them from coming after you, Mitchell? They could just _burst through the door_-"

Mitchell shakes his head. "You know they can't enter the house, George."

"So what are you going to do then?" George shifts his gaze between the pair of vampires seated across from him. "Are you going to stay inside with your bodyguard for the rest of your life?"

Mitchell looks indignant. "He's not my _bodyguard_-"

"Guys," Lucian cuts in, "that's enough. No one's going into hiding."

"So, what then," George presses.

"It's still under discussion," Mitchell responds, sparing Lucian a sideways glance.

Lucian drinks his coffee.

"Well, what did you guys talk about last night?" George inquires.

"Mitchell filled me in on local affairs," Lucian answers, setting down his mug. "He gave me a better idea of what we're dealing with. Herrick doesn't have 'an army,' but he is gathering followers. I want to further investigate just how far his influence has spread through the city. Shake things up a bit. We need to make it known that this 'new order' Herrick is trying to instate will not stand."

George looks from one of them to the other. "So what does that mean, _exactly_?"

"Sounds like you want to go hunting," Mitchell says, regarding Lucian with renewed interest.

Lucian quirks an eyebrow at him. "I usually find that that's a good place to start."

Mitchell nods. "Well, I'm in."

"Are you sure you're up for it?" Lucian's voice is tinged with concern.

He shrugs. "Of course."

"Hang on," George objects, looking between the two. "When you say 'hunting,' do you mean you two are going to go out and hunt _vampires?_"

"Yeah," Mitchell replies. "We've done it loads of times."

George stares at him.

"It's the best way to gauge how bad this is," Lucian explains. "We can flush out Herrick's supporters; simultaneously eliminating the threat while discouraging others to join his cause."

"So you two are gonna take on all the vampires in the city _by yourselves?_" George looks aghast.

Lucian shakes his head. "We'd best hope he doesn't have the whole city converted to his cause, and I highly doubt that's the case. Mitchell and I can handle it."

"So," Mitchell begins, rising from his seat, "when do we start?"

"Tonight," Lucian declares, "after sunset. The sooner we can get a handle on this situation the better."

George looks at them incredulously. "You two are completely mental."

* * *

Later in the evening, Lucian is standing in Mitchell's room as the pair gear up to head out for the night. He observes Mitchell with a critical eye as he routes through the trunk he pulled out from under his bed.

"You're awfully quiet," Mitchell says as he loads himself down with weapons; multiple wooden stakes sharpened to wicked points as well as a few blades for good measure. "Don't tell me _you're_ nervous about dealing with a few rogues. This is like another day at the office for you," he laughs.

Lucian offers a small smile, but his expression quickly turns serious. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Of course," Mitchell says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just like old times, yeah?"

"I mean, you've been back on your feet for less than twenty-four hours," he continues.

"It'll be fine," Mitchell protests. "Don't worry about me."

Lucian looks at him, and all the memories of the past few decades seem to flash through his mind. "I'm always worried about you," he says, quietly.

Mitchell is silent as he closes the trunk and slides it back under the bed.

"I'm sorry I haven't been there," Lucian continues. "I wanted to be. It's just that every time I finished a job in one place I got called away somewhere else. It never really stopped." He sits down on the edge of the bed beside where Mitchell stands unnecessarily rechecking his gear. "It shouldn't have taken this business with Herrick for me to come back. It shouldn't have taken you nearly getting yourself killed-"

"Don't." Mitchell shakes his head. "Don't start that. We both know what your responsibilities are. I am not your first priority."

_"Yes you are-"_

"_No_, Lucian." Mitchell turns, taking a seat beside him. "Listen," he begins, "there are so few of the Old Ones left, and I know what that means. What you do is important, and I understand that, I always have. You're only one person. There's only so much you can do, but it's more than that. You told me once that you wanted to give me the chance to make it on my own, but you'd always be there when I needed you. Well, I _have_ made it. Here in this house, with George and Annie. We're a family. I look after them now, just like all those years you looked after me. Well," he laughs, "we look after each other. That's what George and Annie would say. My point is, I've come this far because of everything you did for me."

Lucian shakes his head. "That doesn't excuse recent events. I should have come sooner. If anything happened to you..." he trails off, turning his face away.

Mitchell reaches over, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can't claim personal responsibility for everything. It wasn't your fault." He lets go, folding his hands in his lap. "I shouldn't have handled things the way I did, it was stupid. Don't blame yourself for my mistakes."

Lucian sighs. "I will always feel responsible for you. I don't think anything will ever change that." He passes a hand over his face and Mitchell is struck by just how tired he looks. "It feels like Vienna all over again," he says, barely above a whisper. "I was away for too long. You needed me and I wasn't there."

Mitchell shakes his head. "This is nothing like Vienna, and a lot's changed since then. _I've_ changed since then. And about that night, there's something I should've told you." He takes a breath. "What I said to you... when I was..." he pauses a moment as he struggles over the words. "When you came to see me at Carl's, I said some things that I didn't mean."

Lucian nods his understanding. "You were not exactly yourself that night."

"I know," he continues, "but that's not the point. I remember everything that I said; about you not caring, that you abandoned me. At the time, I thought I did mean it, but when I came to my senses, I realized how stupid and childish it was. I know you probably didn't take any of it too seriously because of how messed up I was when I said it, but I still think about it sometimes, and I guess I always wondered if you did too."

Lucian sighs. "I suppose I've always been conflicted about you. I'm always struggling to find the balance between being too close and staying too far away. I always worry I'm not doing the right thing."

Mitchell shakes his head. "You always did the right thing. You were right, I needed to be on my own. I'm over a hundred years old, I think it was well past time for me to grow up," he says with a laugh. "I never doubted that you cared. Not when I was really honest with myself. You just knew what I needed at the time better than I did. I think I've become better for our time apart, I'm stronger now. Although," he amends, "I have missed having you around."

Lucian smiles. "That's good to know."

"Yeah, well," Mitchell goes on, "I think George and Annie can get sick of me. You're the only one I know who'll put up with me for any real length of time."

He laughs. "I'm sure that's not entirely true."

Mitchell just shrugs.

"I have missed you," Lucian says, after a pause.

Mitchell nods. "Ten years is a long time. Even for us, I think. I don't know," he says, grinning, "you may just have to stick around for awhile. We've got ten years of catching up to do."

Lucian shakes his head in amusement. "You know," he says, after a pause, "when this is all over, I might just take you up on that. I think I've had enough of traveling for a while."

Mitchell just smiles.

* * *

As soon as the sun goes down, Lucian and Mitchell are standing by the front door, ready to depart.

Annie watches them warily from her seat on the stairs, George sitting beside her in disapproving silence. "You will be careful won't you?"

"_Careful_," George interjects. "Yes Annie, I'm sure they'll be very careful launching their assault on a horde of _vampires_!"

She glares at him.

"Don't worry, Annie," Lucian assures her. "This isn't anything we haven't done before."

"It's not you I'm worried about," she mutters under her breath, sparing Mitchell a sideways glance.

"Annie, it'll be fine," Mitchell says, giving her a pointed look. "Really."

Lucian steps toward the door, turning to Mitchell. "You ready?"

He nods. "Yeah, let's go."

Annie can't take it anymore. She launches herself at Mitchell, flinging her arms around his neck. "We've only just got you back and it's like your marching off to_ war_," she cries.

"Annie, _for God's sake_," Mitchell exclaims as he tries to free himself from her strangle hold. "We'll be back in a few hours! You'll hardly know we've been gone."

She releases him and takes a step back, trying to gather herself. "Right, well, you two look after each other," she says, giving Lucian an accusatory look. "You'd better come back in one piece!"

Mitchell gives her and George a dismissive wave as he steps out the door.

Before Lucian follows him out, he turns and gives Annie a nod, lingering just a moment longer as he meets her eye.

Annie gives him a weak smile and nods her understanding. _He'll look after him._

Lucian steps through the door, pulling it closed behind him, and the pair disappear into the gathering darkness.

* * *

Mitchell breathes in the night air, reveling in the rush of adrenaline as he stalks the back alleys in pursuit, Lucian hard on his heels. They had come across a pair of vampires who had two women cornered behind a local pub. Lucian had dispatched the first one easily enough, but his companion had fled, Mitchell racing after her.

He pauses at the end of the row, as the alley splits off in two different directions. Lucian catches up and stands alongside him. They communicate silently, and Lucian takes the right side as Mitchell goes left.

As he creeps along, Mitchell focuses his senses, hearing every sound from the chatter of human voices in nearby buildings, to the rustle of paper being blown across the pavement. So, when the female figure leaps at him from the shadows, he's ready for her. She bares her fangs, lunging for his throat, but Mitchell is faster. He thrusts his arm forward, stake in hand, and the figure before him is reduced to dust.

Lucian appears around the corner as Mitchell straightens, dusting himself off. He claps Mitchell on the shoulder. "Come on, we'd best keep moving."

Mitchell nods, following him out onto the street.

The pair find themselves walking down a side street which seems strangely deserted. They pick their way along cautiously, sharp eyes scanning the darkness for any threat.

After a few moments silence, Mitchell shakes his head. "It's too quiet."

Lucian continues to scan the shadows. "Just stay close," he says, tightening his grip on the silver cylinder in his hand.

Something moves in the shadows ahead, and they stop, weapons drawn. As the shadow takes shape, Mitchell narrows his eyes in recognition, his grip tightening on the stake in his hand. "Seth."

Seth strolls casually toward them, hands in his pockets. "You lads have been quite busy tonight. But you should know; when you go looking up trouble, trouble has a way of finding you."

Mitchell lunges forward, but Lucian catches his arm. "Wait."

He turns to look, following Lucian's gaze, and suddenly sees a half a dozen figures emerging from the shadows surrounding them. They approach in unison, forming a circle around the pair and blocking any potential escape route.

Lucian takes a step forward, addressing Seth. "Did Herrick not think someone would be watching? This little _uprising_ of his is not the first of its kind. We will not stand by while one vampire risks the destruction of our entire race for his own selfish ends."

Seth laughs. "I think you'll find that not as many share your sentiments as you might think, _Old One_. But that is not a matter for me to discuss. I'm here to deliver a message."

Lucian's grip tightens on the stake in his hand. "And what is that?"

"Not for you." Seth shifts his gaze to Lucian's left. "My message is for John Mitchell."

Lucian turns to Mitchell, who doesn't meet his eye as he takes a step forward. "What do you want, Seth?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm going to get exactly what I want," he grins, reveling pointed teeth. "I have a message from Herrick. You have a score to settle with your Sire, John Mitchell, and this is his challenge. He wants to meet tomorrow at sunset, you can choose the place, but come alone and end this. We will await your response during daylight hours."

Mitchell gives him a stiff nod. "Then I'll be in touch."

Seth grins. "You know where to find us." He takes a step back and he and his companions disappear into the shadows.

* * *

It is very late by the time Lucian and Mitchell return to the house. They spent most of the return journey walking in silence, and Mitchell has the distinct feeling that this is just the calm before the storm. Lucian is not pleased.

When they walk in the door, Mitchell is spared any immediate confrontation as Annie and George instantly appear from the kitchen.

"Well," Annie begins, looking relieved, "looks like you're both in one piece. How did it go?"

"Fine," Mitchell replies, sparing Lucian a sideways glance.

Annie looks from Mitchell to Lucian, as if sensing the tension between them. "Good," she says. "Well, it's late... so I guess we'll see you in the morning, then? Come on, George."

George looks at her incredulously and she elbows him in the ribs. "Ow! Annie-"

She gives him a pointed look, nodding toward the stairs.

"Oh," he says, finally taking the hint, "right. Well, goodnight then."

Annie smiles at them awkwardly and she and George disappear up the stairs.

Mitchell stares after them, shaking his head. "Those two are so weird," he says, looking amused. He turns to Lucian, who remains silent, seemingly absorbed with hanging up his jacket. He sighs. "You're angry."

Lucian turns to face him, offering a weak smile. "I'm not."

Mitchell shakes his head. "You really think I can't tell?" He runs a hand through his hair, trying to choose his words carefully. "Look, about what happened with Seth-"

"That is not a conversation I wish to have tonight," Lucian interrupts.

"We _need_ to talk about this," he persists.

"Mitchell-"

He recognizes the warning in Lucian's tone and closes his mouth. He knows better than to push it right now.

"Look," Lucian continues, "it's late. I think we should both get some sleep. We'll discuss things in the morning."

He sighs, "alright. Are you staying down here then?"

"Yes," Lucian replies. "The couch will be fine."

He nods. "Can I get you anything?"

Lucian shakes his head. "No. Thank you," he amends.

Mitchell lingers for a moment, looking as if he's about to say something, then seems to think better of it. "Well," he says, "good night."

"Good night," Lucian replies.

He watches as Mitchell disappears up the stairs to his room and sighs. Tomorrow could not be far enough away.

* * *

The next morning, Lucian is up early, having not managed to get a lot of sleep. He had too much on his mind. The smell of coffee brewing seems to rouse the rest of the household as he soon hears movement in the upstairs hallway.

Before long, he hears voices on the stairs as Mitchell and Annie make their way into the kitchen.

"You shouldn't be so insensitive," Annie is saying. "This is a very big step for him!"

Mitchell rolls his eyes. "I'm _not_ being insensitive! I'm just not sure it's a good idea right now. Just because he's over-emotional because it's _his time of the month-_"

"See! See!" Annie points an accusing finger at him. "Insensitive! Honestly, Mitchell, you could be a bit more understanding of George's condition."

Mitchell collapses into the chair next to Lucian at the kitchen table and rests his head in his hands with a heavy sigh.

Lucian quirks an eyebrow at him. "Everything alright?"

Mitchell lifts his head. "It's fine," he says. "George wants Nina to move in and I told him that I don't think now is really the best time. He's just over-sensitive because it's a full moon tonight."

Before Lucian can comment, George appears in the doorway looking especially moody. He busies himself with the coffee before plopping down at the table across from Mitchell with a sigh.

"I just don't understand what you have against Nina," he says after a pause.

Mitchell looks exasperated. "Nina's brilliant," he says. "I'm just saying, there's an awful lot you'd have to _explain_ to her if she's going to move in here. Does she even know that you're a werewolf?"

George mutters something unintelligible into his coffee mug.

"Right," Mitchell continues. "And what about Annie? Have you thought about _her_ at all?"

"Don't bring me into this!" Annie exclaims.

He ignores her. "She won't be able to _see_ Annie, George. How are you going to explain that?"

"I guess I hadn't really thought about it," George mumbles.

"I'm not saying never, George," Mitchell continues. "There's just a lot of things we need to figure out first. Let's focus on one thing at a time."

Breakfast is a chaotic affair as everyone decides to help with the cooking this time. When they're all finished, the kitchen is a mess, but no one feels like cleaning up right away. They all move to the living room to finish their coffee.

"So," George begins, "did you guys accomplish anything last night? You were gone a while."

"Yeah, I would say so," Mitchell responds. "I think the local clan will think twice about causing any more trouble.

"Well, we definitely sent a clear message," Lucian adds, "although this is far from done with. As long as Herrick is still in place, we have an uprising on our hands."

George looks from one to the other. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going after Herrick," Mitchell declares, "tonight."

The silence in the room is deafening.

Lucian pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain his patience. "Mitchell," he begins, keeping his voice even, "you can't."

"You heard what Seth said-"

"I don't give a damn about Seth." Lucian struggles to keep his calm.

"Hang on," George interjects. "What are you talking about? Why were you talking to Seth?"

Mitchell provides a brief explanation of the encounter for George and Annie's benefit, informing them of Herrick's challenge.

"It is absolutely out of the question," Lucian says when he's finished.

"I'm not asking for your permission," Mitchell responds.

"That's not the point-"

Mitchell rises from his seat, pacing the room in agitation. "If you think I'm just going to sit here while you go after Herrick by yourself-"

"Mitchell-"

"I'm not a child, Lucian-"

"_John_."

Mitchell freezes where he stands, fists clenched at his sides. He takes a steadying breath. "George," he starts, not taking his eyes off of Lucian, "could you guys give us a moment?"

George and Annie sit immobile for a moment, staring between the two.

Mitchell shifts his gaze. "Please?"

"Oh! Right..." George comes back to himself, rising from his seat. "We'll just...um..." He makes a vague gesture over his shoulder, "come on, Annie."

When she doesn't respond, he takes her by the arm and pulls her out of her seat, steering them toward the kitchen.

Mitchell follows them with his gaze with his arms folded across his chest, jaw clenched. "It's nice to know you have so little faith in me," he aims at Lucian, without looking at him.

"That has nothing to do with it."

Mitchell shakes his head. "If anyone has the right to end Herrick, it's me. This is _my_ decision to make."

"Mitchell," Lucian's voice is dangerously low as he tries to keep his calm, "sit down."

He turns away, choosing instead to stare at the opposite wall. "I'm fine, thanks."

Lucian has had enough. He rises, crossing the room in a few easy strides, and stands toe to toe with Mitchell, who refuses to meet his gaze. He places a hand on his side, holding the younger man in place as he leans in and speaks into his ear. "I'm not going to perpetuate a shouting match with you halfway across the room. If you want to discuss this, then we will discuss it. Now, sit down."

Mitchell clenches his jaw, but does as he's asked, pulling away and taking a seat on the couch. Lucian pulls a chair over and sits down facing him.

"Mitchell, you don't fully understand what this means. What you are asking is no small thing. In all my years, do you have any idea how many vampires I have encountered or even _heard of_ that were responsible for the death of their own Sire?"

Mitchell shakes his head, still not meeting Lucian's gaze.

"I can count them on one hand," he continues. "No matter what your past history, Herrick made you what you are. He's a part of you. If you were to go after him and you hesitate-"

"I _wouldn't_ hesitate," Mitchell objects.

"And that's _if_ you can even get to him," Lucian continues. "Herrick asks that you come alone, but do you honestly think that he'll play by his own rules? He'll have others there to intercept you, you can count on that. You'll just be walking into a trap."

"We can't be sure of that," he insists. "I have to try."

"Mitchell," Lucian begins, shaking his head, "I'm sorry. But, I can't let you do this."

He stares at him. "Are you going to try and stop me?"

Lucian leans forward in his seat, steel blue eyes boring into dark brown. "I will be dead before I let you try and go after Herrick on your own."

Before Mitchell can respond, a shrill ringing fills the room, startling them both. Lucian turns toward the source of the noise; his jacket hanging by the front door.

"Shit." Lucian crosses the room and digs through an inner pocket in his jacket, pulling out a cell phone.

"What is it," Mitchell asks, rising from his seat.

"There's only one person who ever uses this number." Lucian flips the phone open, quickly reading the text before closing it again with a curse.

"It's Wyndam," he says to Mitchell's confused expression. "He's here and he wants me to meet him. Now."

"Where?"

"It doesn't say yet," he says, pulling on his jacket. "I'm sure he knows I'm not alone. He won't tell me where I'm going until I've left the house." Lucian shakes his head. "He's always been like that. I've never understood why he's so uptight about his own security."

Mitchell furrows his brow, thinking through the situation. "Can I come with you?"

"No, he'd never allow it." Lucian answers.

"Are you sure," he asks. "I mean, he probably just wants you to report in on everything that's been going on. I've been here longer than you have, he might want to hear what I know."

"I will pass on all of the information that you've given me." Lucian responds. "Wyndam knows you're here, if he wanted me to bring you, he would have asked. As it is, I'm not entirely sure what's so important that he felt the need to meet in person. But I will promise you one thing. No matter what this is about, I'm not going anywhere. Not until we deal with Herrick; whatever that means." He gives Mitchell a pointed look. "I may be direct to Wyndam, but he can't order me away. Not if I feel this is more important, and it is. There may be a hierarchy in place, but he doesn't have _that_ many years on me," he concludes with a smirk.

Mitchell follows Lucian as he heads for the front door. As he's reaching for the handle, he stops and turns around. "There's one more thing."

"What is it," Mitchell asks.

Lucian reaches out and places his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "I need you to promise me something. Promise me that you won't do anything until I get back. Don't leave the house. Can you do that?"

"Lucian-"

"Please, Mitchell," he pleads. "We'll figure out what to do about Herrick. Together. Just wait until I come back." He searches his face. "_Promise me_, John."

Mitchell closes his eyes with a sigh. No one ever uses his given name anymore, he doesn't like them to. It makes him think of _home_, and the life he had before he became a vampire. Now that he thinks of it, Lucian is the only one who ever gets away with calling him 'John.' He supposes that's because he's Lucian, and he only ever uses it when he's very serious.

"Alright," Mitchell finally agrees.

Lucian reaches up, holding his face between his hands, searching his eyes. "I need you to say it. _Please_."

Mitchell releases a shaky breath. "I promise."

Lucian sighs with relief, pulling him into an embrace. "I just need to know you're safe," he breathes, the words nearly inaudible. After a brief moment, he lets him go and pulls the door open behind him. "I shouldn't be gone long," he says, as he steps outside. "A couple of hours, at the most. If not, I'll call."

Mitchell stands in the doorway, shaking his head. "I'd still feel better if I knew where you were going."

He offers a weak smile. "I'll see you soon."

Mitchell stays in the doorway, watching him make his way down the street. As he finally disappears around the corner, Mitchell can't shake this sudden sense of dread. He heads back inside, reluctantly bolting the door behind him.

* * *

As Lucian reaches the end of the street, he feels the phone buzzing in his pocket. _Right on cue_, he thinks. He flips open the phone and reads the latest text.

_Take a left and go four blocks. Turn right. The old warehouse at the end of the street. See you there. -E.W._

Lucian closes the phone and deposits it back inside his jacket. He turns up his collar against the wind, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns down the road.

When he reaches his destination, he stops, surveying the dilapidated structure before him. "Not your usual style, Wyndam," he says to himself. He takes a quick look around for any sign of human activity, but the whole place seems deserted. He ducks through the gate and finds his way inside.

As Lucian enters the building, the air is musty. This place has clearly not been in use for a few decades. He makes his way toward the center of a large room, and suddenly stops, sensing a presence behind him.

"Trying to sneak up on me," he speaks to the darkness. The shadows take shape as a slight figure steps toward the light, sharply dressing in suit and tie.

"You're never off your guard, Lucian Harcourt," says the man. "Ever the soldier."

Lucian inclines his head in a curt nod. "Edgar." He surveys the room. "Interesting choice of meeting place."

"Well," he grins, "it does have its uses."

"So what is this about, Wyndam," Lucian asks, folding his arms. "I didn't think that matters in Bristol would require such close attention on your part. I can assure you that I have the situation under control."

"Ah, yes. I did hear about last night's exploits." Wyndam begins, pacing the floor. "Tell me, Lucian. Are you really so concerned about a little uprising in a small town in the south of England, or is this about something else? You're own personal vendetta perhaps?"

Lucian furrows his brow. "I'm not sure I understand your meaning."

Wyndam stops and stands in front of him with his hands behind his back. "I think you understand perfectly. Ever since you ordained yourself John Mitchell's _guardian_, there has only ever been one mission on your mind. Your obsession with William Herrick has grown tiresome."

Lucian squares his shoulders, extending himself to his full height. "Herrick is at the heart of the uprising. He wants to start an all out war against the humans. He would threaten our entire race for the sake of his own desire for power."

"No." Wyndam steps back, shaking his head. "You misunderstand. You see, Herrick would never take such action on his own, not for his own ends. He would never dare incur the wrath of the Old Ones. At least," he grins, "not without support from a higher power."

Lucian catches movement over Wyndam's shoulder as a shadow behind him begins to take shape. As the figure moves into the light, he is shocked by what he sees. It's Herrick.

Before he can recover himself, others emerge from the shadows and Lucian is seized from behind by four pairs of arms, rooting him to the spot. He struggles against them to no avail.

"You've been aiding him all along." He fixes Wyndam with a venomous glare. "All these years, every time I got close, _you_ told him I was coming. You sent me on all those assignments, traversing the globe, just so I couldn't get close enough to your plans!"

"Very good," Wyndam responds with mock approval. "Although, apparently, it wasn't enough. You've been too persistent in your cause, and I grow tired of these games." He steps forward, standing at arm's length. "I'm willing to offer you a choice, Lucian Harcourt. You see, there are so few of us left, and I would hate to bear the responsibility of further reducing our numbers, but I believe there is still use for you. After all, you always were one of our best. The best _soldier_." He moves closer, his face inches from Lucian's. "Join my cause, Lucian. Together, we can prove to the world that we are the master race. It is time you fought for your own kind, not as a guardian of the _humans_."

Lucian bores into him with his gaze, his body trembling with rage. "I will not be your puppet, Edgar Wyndam, and I will _never_ join your cause. You'll have to kill me first."

Wyndam straightens, taking a couple of steps back. "I am disappointed," he says, shaking his head. "That is not what I had hoped to hear." He shifts his gaze over Lucian's shoulder and gives a stiff nod.

Lucian knows that any resistance is futile and, with regret, he resigns himself to his fate. He closes his eyes and takes a final breath. _I'm sorry, John._

There is movement behind him, and he is overwhelmed by a sudden, intense pain.

The world goes black and Lucian knows no more.

* * *

**_I'm sure some of you may be wondering who Edgar Wyndam is. First of all, I will tell you that he's not mine. The only character I have any claim to in this story is Lucian, the rest are borrowed from the BBC. ;)_**

**_For those of you who have watched _****Being Human_ through the end of the third season, you'll know who he is, even if you didn't recognize the name. If you haven't seen the season 3 finale (a.k.a. Mitchell's exit) do not read below the spoiler warning. (Unless you really want to spoil it for yourself. :P)_**

**_HERE IS YOUR OFFICIAL SPOILER WARNING_**

**_Edgar Wyndam only appears in the last fifteen minutes of _****The Wolf-Shaped Bullet_. I had to watch it with the captions on just to get the guy's name, and even that was just 'Wyndam.' I had to look it up on IMDB to get his first name. Anyway... Wyndam is the ASSHOLE who shows up at the end right as George is about to stake Mitchell. I have a personal vendetta against him because the end of that episode was the WORST FIFTEEN MINUTES OF MY LIFE and he's the one who made it drag out! So I decided to make him my criminal mastermind so that I may abuse him later. Mwahahaha!_**

**_END SPOILER WARNING_**

**_Ok. Massive AN is massive, so sorry! Thanks for reading, you're all wonderful._**

**_Please share your thoughts! :)_**


	6. Bad Moon Rising

**Chapter 6: Bad Moon Rising**

_ **Hope you got your things together** _  
_ ** Hope you are quite prepared to die** _  
_ ** Looks like we're in for nasty weather** _  
_ ** One eye is taken for an eye** _

_ ** Don't go round tonight** _  
_ ** Well, it's bound to take your life** _  
_ ** There's a bad moon on the rise** _

**_- Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival_**

* * *

Mitchell drums his fingers on the kitchen table, listening with diminishing patience to the ringing of the phone in his ear. It finally goes to voice mail, and he clicks off the phone, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. He glances at the clock on the wall and sighs in frustration. Lucian has been gone for nearly three hours now and he's not answering his phone.

Mitchell gets up and stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.

"Where are you going," Annie demands as Mitchell starts pulling on his jacket. "You're not actually thinking about going out there?"

"I can't just sit here anymore, Annie," he answers. "He should have been back by now."

"He probably just got held up," George puts in. "Annie's right, Mitchell. Lucian told you not to leave the house."

"That was three hours ago. He told me he'd call if he ran late and he won't answer his phone." Mitchell shakes his head. "Something's wrong. I have to go out and find him."

"Think about this, Mitchell," George pleads. "This is Lucian we're talking about. He can handle himself, and if _he_ can't, do you really think you should go charging into the situation on your own?"

Mitchell meets his gaze, his expression resolute. "It's what he would do for me. I'll be damned if I'm just gonna sit around here if he's in trouble."

He checks his weapons in the inner pockets of his jacket and pulls open the front door.

"Mitchell-"

"I'm not arguing about this, George-" he cuts himself off as he takes in the expression on George's face. He's not looking at Mitchell, rather he's looking _behind_ him. Mitchell turns around, following his gaze, and his eyes come to rest on a lone figure standing on the other side of the street.

A low growl escapes his throat as he takes in the smug look on Seth's face as he approaches. Mitchell takes a step through the door.

"Mitchell," George pleads with him, reaching for his arm. "Don't."

He shrugs him off. "What do you want, Seth," he demands. "I haven't got time for your games."

"What's the matter?" Seth smirks at him. "Have you lost something?"

Mitchell lunges forward, seizing him by the front of his jacket. He drags Seth around the corner and into the alley beside the house, slamming him against the wall.

Seth just laughs. "Now, now," he says. "I have a feeling you want to hear what I have to say."

Mitchell releases him roughly and takes a step back. "You'd better talk fast," he says dangerously.

"There's been a slight change of plans in light of... recent events," he begins with a smirk. "Herrick has chosen a meeting place, and is providing a little incentive to ensure that you show up this evening."

"Out with it, Seth," he threatens.

"There is an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town. It's sort of an alternative meeting place to the funeral parlor; a larger venue you might say."

Mitchell nods. "I know it."

"You will meet Herrick at sunset, as was originally planned, and you _will_ come alone. That has been insured." He grins. "There's no one left for you to hide behind now. Lucian Harcourt is dead."

Mitchell shakes his head. "You're lying. Herrick is a manipulative bastard and you're just a puppet on his strings."

Seth's grin widens. "You really think so?" He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, and removes something long and silver... and stained with blood.

Mitchell stiffens. "Where did you get that?"

Seth twirls the object between his fingers. "Herrick said you might take some convincing. Look familiar?"

He stares at the object in his hands with a growing sense of dread. He would know that silver stake anywhere, he had never seen Lucian without it. Mitchell feels like the world is spinning as he struggles to get a grip on his emotions.

"It's a little ironic, isn't it," Seth continues, "Herrick killing Lucian with his own weapon. I wish I had been there to see it." He grins. "I heard he begged for death before the end."

This is the final push that sends Mitchell over the edge. His vision goes red as he launches himself at Seth, fangs bared. Before he has time to react, Mitchell has ripped the stake from his hand and extended it to a wicked point. He flips it around and plunges it forward, straight through Seth's heart. He doesn't let go until the figure before him is reduced to dust.

Mitchell stumbles back against the wall as the silver stake slips from his hand, clattering on the pavement. His vision swims as he struggles to breathe normally, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a pair of hands gripping him by the arms.

"Mitchell. Mitchell!"

He barely registers the sound of George's voice as he slides down the wall and collapses onto the pavement, squeezing his eyes shut.

George kneels down in front of his friend, gripping him by the shoulders. "Mitchell," he soothes, "listen to me. You've got to _breathe_."

Mitchell reaches out, bracing his arms against George's chest as he tries to steady his breathing. "He's not dead," he chokes out, his voice thick. "He's not. He can't be."

George sits for a moment, rubbing his arms in a comforting gesture, unsure of what to say. He sighs. "Come on," he finally says, pulling him to his feet, "let's get you back inside."

Mitchell pulls away, shaking his head. "No," he says, bending to retrieve the silver stake. "No, I have to find him. He's at that warehouse, I know he is. He's got to be. If I go now I can catch Herrick off guard. He'll probably be expecting Seth to come back first."

George throws out his hands, blocking his path. "Mitchell, stop, and think about this for a second. You can't just go charging in there on your own-"

"I don't have a choice! There isn't anyone else. I'm going after him, he'd do the same for me."

"That is exactly what Herrick wants!" George reaches out, gripping him by the arms. "Don't you get it? You'll just be playing into his hands! If you go in there on your own, you're not coming back out again. It won't do Lucian any good if you get _yourself_ killed trying to get him out."

Mitchell looks utterly defeated, his eyes red. "I don't know what else to do," he chokes out, "I can't just give up on him."

"Mitchell," George steps closer, taking his face between his hands. "I promise you, we will figure this out, but we need a plan. Just come back inside. _Please_, mate."

He closes his eyes for a moment, drawing a shaky breath. Finally he nods. "Alright."

They walk back in the house to find Annie standing by the stairs. She looks as if she's been crying. "I heard everything," she answers the silent question. "Mitchell, I'm so sorry."

All he can do is nod. Annie steps forward, wrapping her arms around him, and he drops his head onto her shoulder, holding her tight. She runs her fingers through his hair. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

George rests a hand on Mitchell's back. "We don't know anything for certain yet. It's like you said, Herrick is a manipulative bastard, this could all be some game he's playing. God knows he could never face Lucian on his own. I don't think _anyone_ is capable of that." He breaks away and Annie and Mitchell watch as he crosses the room and plops down in a chair in the living room. "There's got to be a way into that building without getting any of us _killed_." He sighs, running his hands over his face. "We need help."

Mitchell straightens, coming to a sudden realization. "Of course! How could I have been so stupid." He looks from Annie to George with a renewed sense of determination. "I know exactly who to call."

* * *

As Lucian slowly regains consciousness, he is aware of a dull throbbing in his head and a stiffness in his limbs. He tries to stretch out, but is met with resistance. His eyes snap open. He is bound to a chair in the center of a dark room illuminated by a single light fixture hanging over head. He tries to take in his surroundings, but the dim light only serves to cast shadows all around, constantly shifting. Not to mention the throbbing in his head seems to be affecting his ability to focus properly.

He catches movement at the corner of his eye and he stiffens, instantly alert. "Who's there," he demands of the darkness. "Show yourself!"

A suited figure emerges from the shadows and Lucian has to squint to make him out properly in the contrasting light. The man chuckles. "My my," says Herrick, "still so bossy! That must have been quite the knock on the head. I don't think you fully understand your current situation."

Lucian ignores the taunt. "Where is Wyndam?"

"He had other business to attend to," Herrick says in a bored voice. "Someone of his position, he has to keep up appearances, you see. Now that matters here are in hand, he had no reason to stay."

"So he's left things up to you, then?" He laughs darkly. "Wyndam should have killed me when he had the chance. When I get out of this, and I _will_ get out, I'm going to tear you apart piece by piece. And when that is done, I will hunt Wyndam down to the ends of the earth if I have to. There won't be a single corner of this world or in the depths of _Hell_ dark enough for him to hide from me."

"Oh, I agree," Herrick flashes a predatory grin, "that he should have killed you, that is. Wyndam seems to think that he can bring you over to our cause with a bit of persuasion. Though I think you and I both know that he's wasting his time. No matter. If he prefers to leave you to rot down here instead of giving you a clean end, that's alright by me."

Lucian simply glares at him. "So, what next? You build your army here while Wyndam diverts the attention of the rest of the Old Ones from what you're doing? He can't hide what he really is from them forever."

"Wyndam's business with the Old Ones is none of mine. This is all his plan, I am simply following orders. I have my own business to attend to in the interim." He leans forward with a grin. "And you know of what I speak, don't you, Lucian?"

He shakes his head, feigning ignorance, as he tries to suppress his growing sense of dread. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Herrick's grin fades. "Don't lie to me, Lucian. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He straightens and begins pacing the room. "Forty years ago, you took my closest ally and you turned him against me. John Mitchell was the greatest vampire I ever sired. He was a fierce predator and the only person on whom I could thoroughly rely to get the job done. But fledglings are like children, are they not? So ungrateful to the ones who made them."

Lucian pierces him with his gaze. "You made him a monster, and _entirely_ dependent on you. Don't pretend you ever actually cared for him. You used him and then you left him to take the fall for you."

"I was coming back for him-"

"_You're lying!_ I had eyes on that place for weeks, you never came within a hundred miles. You left him there fully expecting him to die in your place because you were too much of a coward to face me _yourself!_"

"Don't presume to tell me how to manage my own! _I made him!_ His very existence is _owed_ to me!"

Lucian stares at him in disgust.

"John Mitchell was a soldier. In fact, that's exactly what he was when I found him. I Turned him on the battlefield-"

"In exchange for the lives of his men-"

"He was _perfectly obedient_ to me. My best lieutenant. I assumed he could handle things in London until he disappeared _with you_. I figured he'd return to me on his own, but it seems I was mistaken. Now it is too late, and I must seek to undo what I created."

Lucian can feel a cold dread washing over him. "If you so much as go _near_ him, I swear to God-"

"Oh, I won't go near him. He's going to come to _me_," he says, and the predatory grin returns. "I'm going to send him a message that he will not be able to dismiss. I'm going to tell him that his dear friend Lucian is dead, and he will meet me here at sunset if he wishes to settle the score. I don't have to tell you what the result of that will be. He will come, _alone_, because he would do anything for you, even if all he gets is revenge." Herrick leans down so that he is mere inches from Lucian's face. "Then, do you know what will happen? As soon as he enters the building, my men will take him, and they will bring him to me. To this room. There are other ways to kill a vampire, Lucian Harcourt. Ways that are _much_ slower and more satisfying than a simple stake to the heart. I plan to make John Mitchell's end into quite a show, and you've got yourself a front row seat!"

Lucian lunges forward, pulling desperately at his bonds, his fangs bared.

Herrick just laughs as he stands and turns his back on Lucian, crossing the room.

"He'll never fall for your plan, Herrick! Mitchell wouldn't put himself in that kind of situation. He's too smart for that."

"Oh, he'll come," he says with his back to Lucian as he digs through something he can't see. "All he needs is a little persuasion."

Herrick turns and Lucian catches a glint of silver in his hand. Belatedly, Lucian realizes that he's no longer wearing his jacket. As Herrick steps back into the light, his suspicions are confirmed. He's holding Lucian's own silver stake in his hand.

Lucian squares his shoulders and glares at him in defiance. "So, you're just going to kill me, then? That's your plan?"

"Oh, no," he responds. "I already told you, I'm going to make you watch. You see, I only need Mitchell to _think_ that you're dead."

In one swift motion, Herrick extends the stake in his hand and plunges it forward into his torso. Lucian expels a rattling breath as it punctures his lung, only to have the object ripped cruelly back out of his body. He slumps forward in the chair as he struggles to breathe with one undamaged lung. He can already feel his body starting to rebuilding itself, but he's losing too much blood in the interim.

Lucian struggles to lift his head as he watches Herrick retreat from the room, his own blood dripping from the stake in his hand. The images start to blur out of focus and Lucian once again descends into darkness.

* * *

George and Annie sit on the couch, following Mitchell with their eyes as he paces the floor like a lion in a cage.

"Mitchell," Annie ventures, "why don't you come and sit down? I'm sure they'll be here soon."

He spares her a sideways glance and resumes his pacing.

She sighs. "You're going to wear through the carpet if you keep pacing like that."

Mitchell stops and is about to fire back a retort when there is a knock at the door. He crosses the room in a few easy strides and flings the front door open. He breaks into a wide grin as he takes in the two figures standing on the doorstep.

"Carl!" He pulls his friend into a fierce hug before breaking away and turning to the next. "Dan, it's good to see you." He pulls away and takes a step through the doorway, ushering them inside. "Come on in, guys."

Mitchell leads them through to the living room, where introductions are made, and they all take their seats to discuss the matter at hand.

"I'm sorry to drag you into this," Mitchell begins, "but I didn't know where else to turn."

Carl shakes his head. "I would have been very upset with you if you hadn't. Lucian is our friend, and this is too much for any one person to handle on their own."

"It's just that, I know this is all still pretty new for you, Dan," he continues.

"You're not giving me enough credit," Dan replies with a grin.

Carl lays a hand on his shoulder. "Daniel can handle himself," he affirms, "and we will all be together." He leans forward in his seat. "Now, tell us what you know."

Mitchell launches into a brief overview of the past few days, going into more detail when he comes to current events. He tells them about Lucian's message from Wyndam, and what happened with Seth a few hours later. When he finishes, Mitchell sits staring at his hands in his lap, trying to suppress the resurgence of his emotions. Annie loops an arm through his, leaning against his shoulder.

Carl stares straight ahead for a moment, resting his chin on his hands. "How much credibility is there to Seth's claim?"

With a sigh, Mitchell reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, removing the silver cylinder and placing it on the table between them. He had left that part out of the story.

Carl nods, his expression grim. "Well," he begins after a pause, "that doesn't tell us anything for certain. There is still a very good chance that he is alive," he says, looking Mitchell in the eye, "but we need to find him as soon as possible. This warehouse, you know where it is?"

Mitchell nods. "It's not that far from here. It's kind of an old haunt of the local clan. The place has been abandoned for decades, but the local vampires like to hang around there from time to time."

"Are you familiar with the layout of the building?" Carl asks.

"A bit. There are different levels to the place. The lower levels are pretty straightforward, but the upper levels contain dozens of rooms off of interconnecting hallways." He sighs. "It's a labyrinth in there."

Carl passes a hand over his face. "Alright. Well, we don't know how many we're up against, so we'll need to be careful. With just the three of us-"

"Four," George interjects, leaning forward in his seat.

Annie looks at him. "Five," she says, her expression resolute. "We're coming with you."

Mitchell stares at each of them in turn, looking exasperated. "Annie," he says, "no. George, it's a full moon tonight, how would it ever work?"

"We've still got a couple of hours until the full moon-"

"Oh, great! So it'll just be _yourself_ against a mob of vampires-"

"Gentlemen," Carl interrupts, gaining their attention. He looks thoughtful. "This might actually work. I think I have an idea."

* * *

It is late in the afternoon when Mitchell and his friends arrive at their destination. They approach with caution, not wanting their presence made known prematurely. Before they enter the building, Carl pulls the group aside.

"Ok, we haven't got a whole lot of time before the moon rises, so we've got to act fast. We need to determine how many of them are in there and find a place to close them in. Annie, you're in charge of the doors."

She nods. "Right."

"I should go in first to draw them out," Mitchell says. "They're expecting me to show up, so it won't tip them off right away."

Carl shakes his head. "That's exactly what I'm worried about. I don't want you walking into a trap."

"Why don't I scout ahead," Annie offers. "I can just rent-a-ghost in and out, they'll never see me."

Mitchell shakes his head. "If they _do_ see you-"

"I'll have an easier time of it than anybody else," she insists. "I don't have to worry about hiding when I can just disappear from the room.

"Annie's right," Carl says. "It's the best option we have."

Reluctantly, Mitchell agrees. "Alright, but don't be long."

Annie offers a small smile and disappears from the spot.

When Annie reappears, she finds herself in a large open space, which is barely lit. She can hear a murmur of voices, and quickly ducks behind a nearby pillar. As she peeks out from her hiding place, she can see about a half a dozen men standing in the shadows in the center of the room. Annie doesn't dare get any closer, but from where she is standing she is almost certain she heard Mitchell's name. She narrows her violet eyes at them, _Carl was right. They_ are_ planning an ambush._

She glances around the room, trying to get a feel for the place, and notices another door on the opposite side of the building. It looks like an old emergency exit. She grins, _well then. We'll just have to ambush the ambushers._

She spares a cautionary glance toward the figures in the center of the room, and pops to the other side, getting a closer look at the discovered door. She suppresses a triumphant cry as she determines that her suspicions are correct and the door does in fact lead outside. Very carefully, she undoes the bolt, satisfied that the door can now be opened from the outside.

Annie hears movement overhead and pops to the upper level, careful to put enough distance between herself and the sound. As she creeps down the hallway, the sound of voices becomes clearer and she can see a door up ahead, slightly ajar. She approaches cautiously, peering in through the glass in the center of the door.

Annie suppresses a curse. There are at least a dozen vampires crowded around the room, deep in conversation. _This may be a bit more difficult than we thought_.

She retreats from the door and scouts out the rest of the building as best she can. There are lots of rooms and hallways, but thankfully, they appear deserted. She comes to one last hallway on the lower level that almost seems to descend into the building. She finds herself strangely drawn to the long corridor and begins to make her way down. She picks her way along cautiously when she suddenly hears voices, one of which is disturbingly familiar. _Herrick_. With nowhere to hide quickly enough, Annie is forced to abandon her endeavor, and she pops back outside.

Mitchell looks immensely relieved when Annie reappears beside him. "I was getting worried," he says. Annie blushes.

"What did you find?" Carl asks, breaking her out of her reverie.

Annie shifts her focus and recounts her findings, the three vampires and lone werewolf looking more apprehensive as she concludes her report.

Carl sighs. "This isn't going to be easy."

Mitchell meets his gaze. "Carl, I have to try."

Carl reaches out a hand, squeezing his shoulder. "We're with you, my friend."

He smiles gratefully.

"Alright," Carl continues, "now that we know what we're up against; Mitchell, you'll enter through the front of the building, just like they're expecting. The rest of us will go in through the back door Annie found and take them by surprise. We've got to move fast. As soon as the first group has been dealt with, all hell is going to break lose. George, how are you feeling?"

George nods weakly. "Contained for now, but there isn't a lot of time. It's nearly sunset and the moon will be rising soon."

Carl nods. "Ok. We've got to contain the remaining vampires with George when the time comes, and get the hell out of there. A werewolf on the rampage is not one to contend with. Are you ready?"

Mitchell nods, jaw set in determination. "Let's go."

"Right then. Give us a couple of minutes to get to the back of the building and then head inside." Carl claps him on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Carl and Dan start making their way around the building, but George and Annie linger. George tries to speak, but he can't seem to form the words. Instead, he simply reaches out, nearly causing Mitchell to trip as he abruptly pulls him into an embrace. Annie's face crumbles and she launches herself at the pair, wrapping her arms around them both.

"You look after yourself, alright?" George says in his ear.

He nods. "You too."

The trio disentangle themselves and Mitchell reaches a hand to Annie's face, brushing away her tears. "Don't cry, Annie, I'll see you soon."

She nods, taking his hand between hers, and leans forward, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Mitchell looks up in surprise, but before he can respond, she lets go of his hand, and turns to follow after Carl and Dan's retreating forms.

George gives him a knowing smile, pats him on the shoulder, and follows after Annie.

Mitchell waits until all four of his friends disappear around the corner before making his move. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, squares his shoulders, and enters the building.

As he makes his way in, Mitchell can almost feel the tension in the air. He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, removing the silver cylinder, and extends the point with a flick of his wrist. He weighs the stake in his hand, drawing strength and focus from the familiarity of the object and what it represents to him.

The darkness of the room is almost too absolute for even his vampire eyes to see through. He suppresses his nerves as he picks his way along, ears pricked to the smallest sound.

Suddenly, they're on him.

Mitchell lunges forward with the stake in his hand, swiftly dispatching his first attacker. As others move to take his place, there is an explosion of activity behind them as Carl, Dan, and George throw themselves into the fray.

As the remaining assailants are dispatched, there is movement from the upper level. Mitchell looks up and sees a sizable group of vampires making their way down to them.

"Mitchell, go!" Carl commands. "Find Lucian! We'll handle this."

He hesitates, reluctant to leave his friends so outnumbered.

Carl catches his eye. "Don't worry," he says with a grin, "I've got a plan. Now go!"

Mitchell spares them one last glance and turns, heading further into the building.

* * *

Carl surveys the oncoming horde as adrenaline courses through him. He glances to his right, taking in George's appearance. It won't be long now.

"George," he calls, "I think it's time to put our plan in motion."

George nods his acknowledgement and takes off down the hallway ahead of them.

"Annie, you know what to do."

Annie nods and vanishes from the spot.

Carl turns to his remaining companion. "Are you with me, Daniel?"

He grins. "Always."

Carl smiles back. "Alright, wait for my signal."

The pair stand their ground until the vampires are nearly on them. Finally, he gives the word.

"Now!"

Carl and Dan take off down the hallway, following George's path, the mob of vampires trailing behind them. They wind their way through, looking for George's signal. They finally find it in the form of an open door near the end of the corridor, and the pair sprint inside.

They find themselves in a large room cluttered with old work benches. The place has clearly not been in use for some time as everything in the room in coated in a thick layer of dust.

As they pick their way along, Carl suddenly comes up short, throwing an arm out to halt Dan's progress behind him.

Dan is about to speak, but he cuts himself off at the look on Carl's face. He turns, following Carl's gaze, to see George hunched over in the corner of the room... and he is about to Change.

The two are spared any sudden decision making when Annie appears just ahead of them. "Come on," she beckons, "this way!"

Annie leads them further into the room and through a side door on their left. Once everyone is through, she bolts the door behind them. The trio turn and peer through the glass in the door just as the pursuing vampires start pouring into the room.

As the last few enter the room, Annie vanishes, reappearing just outside the first door Carl and Dan came through. Before they realize what's happening, Annie slams the door closed, locking them inside.

She pops back to Carl and Dan's side and rejoins them at the window.

"Are we sure he's going to be alright in there?" Dan asks, watching George through the glass.

His concerns are short lived. As the three look on, the room erupts into chaos as the trapped vampires attempt to flee the rampaging werewolf. Their efforts are futile as the Wolf tears through them one by one with tooth and claw. Not a single vampire is spared the carnage.

Any relief at their success is cut short us a door bursts open behind Carl, Dan, and Annie and more vampires enter the room.

"I guess that means it's our turn," Dan says with a grin, and he and Carl launch themselves into the fray.

The two make a perfect team as they maneuver through the room, making quick work of their enemies. Soon the attacking vampires are reduced to dust scattered across the floor.

"Guys," Annie calls, "I think we may have a problem."

Dan and Carl move back to the door where Annie is standing, and follow her gaze through the glass.

As they peer through to the opposite door, they see a pair of vampires on the other side attempting to pry open the door. Before anyone can make a move, the door is opened and the werewolf launches himself at the pair. He makes quick work of the two vampires, and tears off into the hallway.

"Wonderful," Carl says, "now we've got an escaped werewolf on our hands." He takes Dan by the arm. "Come on, we'd better keep moving. Annie, see if you can keep after him. Contain him if you can."

"Got it," she nods and vanishes from the room.

Carl and Dan cautiously exit the room and head down the hallway in the opposite direction of the werewolf and Annie. As they round the corner, they stop short as they nearly crash into another group of vampires.

"I guess that makes this round three," Dan says.

Carl grins and they launch themselves into the fray.

* * *

Mitchell moves along cautiously, all of his senses heightened and alert. He tightens his grip on the silver stake in his hand as he makes his way down the long corridor. The fact that he hasn't encountered a single soul since he turned down this hallway has him highly suspicious, though he hopes that this is due to the chaos his friends have created on the other end of the building. Still, he keeps up his guard.

He comes to a door at the end of the hallway and stops, focusing his senses. He can hear no sign of movement surrounding him, nor on the other side of the door. He takes a breath and reaches for the handle, slowly pushing it open.

As he enters the room, he finds himself in a large open space lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. He pushes the door closed behind him and steps further in.

As his eyes adjust to the dim light, he catches the outline of a figure seated in the center of the room. As the image comes into focus, his eyes widen in recognition and he crosses the room in a few easy strides. He kneels down in front of the chair, laying the silver stake on the floor beside him.

"Lucian," he calls, shaking his shoulders. "_Lucian, wake up!_"

Lucian opens his eyes slowly and takes a breath, trying to focus his eyes on the figure in front of him. "Mitchell?"

"You're covered in blood," he says with concern. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As Mitchell sets to work on the bonds, Lucian begins to come back to himself, remembering their surroundings. He sits bolt upright in his chair.

"No," he protests, "you shouldn't be here. You have to get out."

Mitchell shakes his head, continuing his work. "I'm not leaving you here."

"You don't understand," he continues. "This is much bigger than we realized. Herrick is working for _Wyndam_."

Mitchell stops, nearly finished with one side, and stares up at him in shock. "Wyndam?"

He nods. "You've got to get yourself out. It was Herrick's plan to get you to come alone all along."

Mitchell shakes his head. "I didn't come alone, Carl and Dan are with me. George and Annie too." He grins. "How do you think I got this far?" He moves behind Lucian's chair and sets to work on the other side. "Now, shut up and let me get you out of this," he says lightly.

Before Lucian can respond, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, Herrick emerges from the shadows. "Mitchell!"

Mitchell is too slow to respond to Lucian's warning as Herrick launches himself at him, knocking him backwards. He scrambles to reach a weapon, but he is pinned out of reach of the stake next to Lucian's chair. Unarmed, he resorts to landing blows instead.

As the two scuffle mere feet away, Lucian uses his free hand to work at his remaining bonds, his efforts more frantic as the moments pass.

Mitchell finds himself losing ground as Herrick manages to access his own weapon in the struggle. He cries out as Herrick lunges forward with the stake, impaling his shoulder.

Herrick growls his impatience. "Missed you again. You always have to make things so difficult."

Mitchell drives forward with his knee, earning a brief reprieve as his efforts cause Herrick to double over in pain. He rips the stake from his shoulder, but Herrick is on him again before he can turn the weapon on his attacker.

Herrick takes him by the throat, slamming him back against the wall. The stake falls from Mitchell's hand as he attempts to free himself from the grip tightening around his throat.

As the darkness threatens to overtake him, he catches movement over Herrick's shoulder. Suddenly, the pressure is gone, and Mitchell all but collapses to the ground, struggling for breath.

As his vision comes back into focus, he sees Herrick with his back against the wall now, Lucian looming over him. The silver stake is at home in Lucian's hand, pressed hard enough into Herrick's chest that it draws blood just over his heart. Lucian's fangs are bared and Mitchell thinks that he's never seen him look so dangerous.

"Are you alright?" Lucian asks, not taking his eyes off his prey.

Mitchell nods. "Fine," he says when he realizes that he's not looking at him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Herrick growls. "You've got what you wanted. Finish this!"

"No," Lucian says, surprising Herrick and Mitchell alike. "This is not my battle to finish." He shifts his gaze now, catching Mitchell's eye. "John?"

Mitchell swallows hard, glancing between the two, as the realization dawns. He hardens his resolve and, squaring his shoulders, moves to stand by Lucian's side.

He stands to the right, where Lucian has the weapon in his hand, and meets his gaze. Lucian gives him an encouraging nod, and Mitchell reaches up, taking the weapon from his hand. Lucian relinquishes it slowly and, when he's confident that Mitchell has control, he steps back to give him space, but he stays within reach, just in case.

Mitchell focuses his full attention on Herrick now, who sneers at him. "So, this is how you repay me," he says venomously. "After everything I've done for you?"

Mitchell glares at him. "You mean how that's the second time you've tried to kill me this week? You're not exactly playing to my sympathies here, Herrick."

"You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me," he growls. "_I_ found you in the trenches. You never would have made it out of there alive."

"No." Mitchell shakes his head. "You said that you would spare my men if you could Turn me, but you _never_ keep your word, do you? You drained every last one of them dry, and then you made sure I never had a chance to remember it. You kept me under your control for nearly _fifty years_."

"You owe me your very existence, John Mitchell," Herrick shoots back. "_I made you!_"

"You may have made me a vampire," he responds, "but I'm not going to let my past define me. I am who I choose to be in spite of _you_."

Herrick bares his fangs and lunges toward him in one final act of desperation, but Mitchell is ready for him. He thrusts forward with the stake in his hand, plunging it straight through Herrick's heart.

As the figure before him begins to crumble away, Mitchell releases the stake and takes a step back, staring remorselessly as Herrick is reduced to dust at his feet.

He takes a steadying breath, still staring at the floor, and nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He gives Lucian a sheepish grin. "I nearly forgot you were standing there."

Lucian offers a weak smile. "Are you alright?"

He nods. "Grand."

Lucian is not entirely convinced, but he decides that that is a conversation for another time. "Come on," he says, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "let's find the others and get out of here."

Lucian retrieves the silver stake and finds his jacket in the corner of the room, pulling it on stiffly over his sore muscles.

Mitchell eyes him critically. "Are _you_ alright?"

"We need to keep moving," he answers evasively, heading toward the door.

Mitchell rolls his eyes at his back and turns to follow him out of the room.

The two move through the building cautiously, making their way through the maze of hallways. The place is eerily quiet as they pick their way along, passing suspicious looking piles of dust and smears of blood along the way.

The pair exchange a glance and Lucian doesn't miss the shadow of worry that passes over Mitchell's features. He puts a hand on his back, urging him forward. "Come on," he says encouragingly. "We'll find them."

He nods and follows along in silence.

As they round the next corner, Mitchell stops, reaching out a hand to halt Lucian's progress. "Wait," he says. "Do you hear that?"

Lucian looks at him questioningly and focuses his hearing. He looks down the hallway ahead of them as he catches the sound. "Someone's coming."

They both draw weapons, prepared to face the threat, when a pair of familiar faces appear at the end of the hall, sprinting towards them.

"Run," Carl calls when he sees them. "Don't ask questions, just run!"

Lucian and Mitchell exchange confused glances as Carl and Dan race past them, but any questions die on their lips as they turn in the direction the two came from. At the other end of the hall barreling toward them is a rather large and angry werewolf.

Mitchell's eyes widen in recognition. "Oh, shit," he exclaims and he and Lucian turn on the spot, tearing off after their friends. As they turn down another hallway, Annie appears at the end gesturing frantically.

"Over here," she calls, "lead him over here!"

Dan and Carl pass through the indicated door first, Lucian and Mitchell trailing behind them. They enter a large open space with a door on each wall leading in a different direction. As they all reach the center of the room, the werewolf suddenly bursts through the door behind them, causing everyone to scatter. Dan and Carl make it through the first door on the left and turn to see Lucian and Mitchell at the opposite end of the room.

"Just close it!" Lucian commands as he and Mitchell edge toward their own exits.

Carl pulls the door shut, bolting it behind them, and he and Dan watch anxiously through the glass.

"Annie," Lucian calls, "the other door. Seal it off behind him."

Annie looks distressed, but she complies, leaving Lucian and Mitchell shut in with the werewolf with only the doors behind them to escape through.

"Mitchell," Lucian says, keeping his eyes on the Wolf, "you're closer to your door, get out of here."

Mitchell shakes his head. "And he's closer to _you_. I'll distract him, you go first."

"Now is not the time to argue-"

"You'll never make it, you stubborn bastard, just go!"

At Mitchell's outburst, the werewolf turns in his direction, momentarily distracted. With a curse, Lucian turns and closes the distance between himself and the door. He slams it shut just as the werewolf lunges for him, crashing into the closed door instead.

With the werewolf temporarily stunned, Mitchell backs away slowly, edging toward his own door. He reaches for the handle blindly and turns it- but it doesn't open. In a panic, he turns to see two of Herrick's men sneering at him through the glass on the other side of the door.

"Shit." He turns back to face the werewolf, which is now surveying him with interest.

"Mitchell!" Lucian fights with the door in front of him, trying to get it back open.

"Don't," Mitchell calls out, seeing what he's about to do. "You stay there!" He turns his attention back to the werewolf. "George is still in there somewhere. Maybe I can get through to him."

Lucian shakes his head frantically. "This is a full blown Change and he hasn't learned to control it. You can't reason with him!"

"He's my best friend," Mitchell says decidedly, "I have to try."

The Wolf paces back and forth, sizing him up. Mitchell takes a tentative step forward, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"George," he tries, lowering his voice. "George, can you hear me?"

The Wolf bares his teeth at him, and Mitchell falters, taking a step back.

"Come on, George, I know you're in there. It's me!"

He edges backward as the werewolf prowls toward him, claws extended.

"You can control it George, I know you can. The Curse doesn't have to own you. You can fight it!"

Mitchell stumbles as he backs into a table behind him, startling the Wolf. He disentangles himself from the furniture, backing toward the wall again as the werewolf advances on him with a growl.

Mitchell looks him in the eye. "This isn't you, George, you know me. I know this isn't what you want."

He can see nothing of his friend in the Wolf's eyes as it looms closer, baring it's teeth. He falters as there is no where left for him to go.

Mitchell struggles to speak around the lump in his throat. "_Please_, George," he chokes out. "Not like this."

As the Wolf launches itself forward, time slows to a crawl. Mitchell squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see this end. He is only vaguely aware of the sound of the steel door being wrenched open behind him as his own blood seems to be pounding in his ears. Suddenly, he feels a pair of strong arms wrap around his chest, and he snaps his eyes open with a gasp as he is jerked backward through the door.

Not relinquishing his hold, Lucian slams the door closed behind them just as the Wolf lands on the other side. He throws the bolt home and there is a sound of flesh connecting with the heavy steel as the Wolf crashes into the closed door.

Mitchell feels his knees start to give out, and he sinks to the floor, Lucian sliding down beside him. Lucian pulls him back and wraps his arms around him, hugging him against his chest.

Mitchell struggles to slow his breathing as the room won't stop spinning, and he leans back, squeezing his eyes shut.

Lucian drops his head onto his shoulder and expels a breath, holding him tighter. "Don't ever do that to me again."

* * *

**_And so ends my longest chapter ever! I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing this one. Did I give you enough suspense? I must say, I felt a little bit evil writing this one. I find myself apologizing to my own characters. (Why must I torture my babies?) But I usually fix things for them in the end. :) _**

**_On a minor note, I had an alternative title picked out for this chapter, but, more in keeping with the show, _****Bad Moon Rising_ won out. I got some of my inspiration for this chapter from the song _Goin' Down _by Three Days Grace. If you'd care to give it a listen, it really fits the theme here._**

**_Thanks for reading. Please share your thoughts! :)_**


	7. Epilogue: Live To Rise

**Epilogue: Live To Rise**

**_What if the one thing that I missed  
Was everything I need to pass the test?  
And if I fail what happens then?  
Can I still count on you as a friend?_**

**_We're insane but not alone,_**  
**_You hold on and let go_**

**_Like the sun we will live to rise_**  
**_Like the sun we will live and die and then ignite again_**  
**_Like the sun we will live to rise again_**

**_- Live To Rise by Soundgarden_**

* * *

As the morning light pours in through the bedroom window, Mitchell stands staring blankly out into the street below. He rubs at his chest absently, though he hasn't felt any pain since the attack nearly two weeks ago. Still, his hand always seems to gravitate to that spot whenever his mind wanders to the events of those few days, though he never seems to realize it.

"Mitchell?"

He turns as the familiar voice breaks him out of his reverie.

"Are you alright?" Lucian asks, recognizing his behavior. He had observed the change ever since they had returned from the warehouse, like a nervous tick Mitchell had suddenly developed. Though no matter how many times Lucian had tried, he could never get him to talk about it.

As if sensing his thoughts, Mitchell drops his hand, giving him a weak smile. "Grand."

He sighs. "I need to talk to you."

Mitchell furrows his brow at the seriousness of his expression. "You've heard from the Old Ones?"

He gives a solemn nod.

Mitchell leans against the window sill as the realization dawns. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

Lucian takes a seat at the edge of the bed, but says nothing.

He runs a hand through his hair. "When?"

"Tonight."

Mitchell looks crestfallen.

Lucian sighs and gives a nod toward the seat next to him. "Come here."

Mitchell moves away from the window without meeting his gaze and plops down beside him.

"We knew this was going to happen," Lucian begins. "I have to appear before the Council, they need a firsthand account of what happened. Wyndam was my direct, it's my responsibility to report on his actions."

"I know," Mitchell responds, staring at his hands folded in his lap. "I just wish you didn't have to go so soon. It's just this stuff with the local clan," he sighs, "I don't know if I can do this."

"You can," Lucian says with confidence. "They will respect you because you can lead by example. You'll be a great leader," he affirms, "I have faith in you."

Mitchell smiles weakly in return. "I'd just feel better if you were with me."

"This isn't going to be like last time," he answers. "I will come back."

"Not if you're going after Wyndam."

Lucian sighs. "We don't know that yet. How we're going to deal with Wyndam is for the Council to decide."

"So, where will you go?" Mitchell asks.

He shakes his head. "I don't know yet. Probably one of the old meeting places. But that reminds me; there's something I wanted to show you." Lucian reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cell phone.

Mitchell looks at it curiously. "Is that a new one?"

"Yes," he nods, holding it out in front of him. "This number is for you. I'm not giving it to anyone else. I want you to know that no matter where I go or how long I'm gone, this is your direct line. You will always be able to reach me."

Mitchell stares at the device in his hand, at a loss for words. Lucian reaches over and drapes an arm around him, pulling him closer. Mitchell rests his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes.

"I will always be there when you need me."

* * *

Annie glances around the living room where George, Mitchell, and Lucian are gathered, drinking coffee. "I'm gonna miss this, you know," she says, smiling fondly, "the morning routine. I could never get this lot to actually sit down for breakfast before you came along," she says, grinning at Lucian.

He gives her a warm smile. "I think a little normalcy is an important thing to have during a crisis," he says, looking thoughtful. "It helps to feel that some things are still within your control."

"So what happens now?" George asks, not meeting anyone's eye. "One of the Old Ones wants to start a war with humanity, who's to say he doesn't have more followers elsewhere? He could already be off starting a revolution somewhere else."

Mitchell and Lucian exchange a glance at the bitterness in his tone. George had barely spoken to anyone since the warehouse incident. In fact, Mitchell couldn't even remember the last time he had looked him in the eye since that night. He knew that George felt incredibly guilty about what had happened, but he wouldn't talk about it. Now it seems his own self-resentment is being turned out on the rest of the world.

"It's likely Wyndam is lying low for a while," Lucian responds. "When I meet with the Council, we will decide our best course of action against him. He won't be able to make a move without us knowing about it."

"Unless they're in on it too," George answers bitterly.

"Do you have to assume the worst about everything?" Mitchell cuts in, looking agitated. "We're doing the best we can with this. Honestly, George, you're not helping."

George pierces him with his gaze. "Well, excuse me for only being useful to you one night out of the month, but even that, it seems, is debatable. I'm just trying to prepare for the worst because the worst is what always seems to happen. I don't know what else to do!"

Mitchell sits in stunned silence, taken aback by the outburst. George elects to stare at the opposite wall, his eyes shining.

"We'll give you a moment," Lucian says quietly, patting Mitchell on the shoulder as he rises from his seat. "Annie, why don't I help you clean up?"

"Oh," Annie says, catching on, "yes, of course." She rises and takes Lucian's arm as he leads them from the room.

"I'm gonna move out," George begins, still staring at the wall. "I've been thinking about it for a few days now, and I'm gonna move out."

"George, don't be ridiculous. Where would you go?"

"I could go live in the woods somewhere. Far away from people. Where the monster can't hurt anyone."

"George _stop this._" Mitchell grabs a foot stool and pulls it over, sitting down in front of him. "You're _not_ a monster. What happened that night," he sighs, "that wasn't you."

"That's not the point," George responds, holding back the tears. "I almost killed _my best friend_."

"But you didn't-"

"But I would have!" George looks at him now, tears flowing in earnest. "I would have torn you apart without a moment's hesitation. I had absolutely _no control_. If Lucian hadn't got to you in time," he takes a shaky breath, "I never would have forgiven myself."

Mitchell gets up, taking a seat beside him on the couch. He reaches out, pulling him into his arms, and George collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Mitchell," he cries, clenching his fists in the fabric of his shirt. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't," Mitchell says, rubbing his back. "You can't focus on the past. The only thing you can do is move forward. We'll figure this out together, I promise." He sighs. "There's got to be a way."

Suddenly, Annie pops into the room in front of them. "But what if there is," she says, startling them both.

"For God's sake, Annie," Mitchell says as he and George disentangle themselves. "You were supposed to be in the other room!"

She ignores him. "What if there is a way?"

George sits up straighter, surveying Annie with interest. "What are you talking about?"

"Lucian," she calls, waving frantically toward the kitchen, "come out here!"

Lucian emerges from the kitchen, shaking his head at her. "I told you to _wait_," he says, giving her a pointed look.

She tugs on his arm. "Tell them what you just told me!"

He takes the seat across from the pair, leaning forward in his chair. "There is a way for a werewolf to control a Change. With enough practice, a werewolf can learn to Change at will _and_ maintain a level of control during a full moon. You just need someone who can train you."

"See!" Annie can barely contain her excitement. She hits Lucian on the arm. "Tell them what else you said."

He quirks an eyebrow at her before continuing. "About a year ago I met a man in Scotland, a werewolf. He was the most skilled of his kind that I have ever met. Not only had he completely mastered the ability to Change at will, but he was also able to maintain absolute control during a full moon. At least, when the conditions were ideal," he amends.

Mitchell leans forward in his seat. "So, you think he would help George?"

"I think he'd be open to it," Lucian answers. "He is a friend of mine, I could put in a call. Besides," he grins, "I think he might like the idea of settling in one place for a bit. He's a bit of a nomad, but he gets tired of it. I'll see if I can track him down."

"So let me get this straight," George begins. "You're going to call in a Scottish nomadic werewolf to come and be my personal trainer? And he's just going to do it because you asked him to?"

"Not Scottish," Lucian corrects. "Kiwi, actually."

"Kiwi?" George looks confused.

"He means he's from New Zealand," Mitchell explains. "That's a long way from home."

Lucian nods. "I helped him out of a tight spot once," he continues. "He may be willing to do me a favor. But he's a good man. I think he'd be happy to help if I asked him."

"Well," Mitchell says, "I guess we'll find out."

* * *

As the sun begins to set over Bristol, Mitchell, George, and Annie gather by the front door as Lucian prepares to depart. He checks over his things one last time and pulls on his jacket.

"I have enjoyed being here," he says, surveying the three faces, "though my stay hasn't been under the best circumstances."

"Well then," Annie responds, trying to keep from tearing up, "I guess that means you'll just have to come back and see us when things are settled."

He smiles. "George, I'll get in touch with my friend as soon as I can. Expect news soon."

George steps forward and shakes his hand. "Thank you," he says, "for everything."

Lucian gives him a nod. "Annie, you look after these two. God knows it's up to you hold the house together."

She laughs and flings her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "You look after you," she says in his ear before pulling away, wiping at her eyes. "We'll see you soon though, yeah?"

"I hope so," he answers, turning to Mitchell now.

Annie takes George by the arm, steering him toward the kitchen. "Let's give them some space," she says in his ear. "Goodbye, Lucian!"

"Take care, you two," he answers.

As George and Annie exit the room, Mitchell stands there, staring at his shoes.

"You know how to reach me," Lucian begins, "and if I'm not near enough to get here in a hurry, you've got Carl and Dan in London, they'll come."

He nods, still looking at the floor.

Lucian cups his chin, lifting his face so that he'll meet his eye, and has to fight back his own emotions as he sees the tears beginning to form behind brown eyes. He sighs. "Come here." He pulls the younger man into his arms and Mitchell buries his face in his shoulder, clenching his fists in the back of his jacket.

"This isn't going to be like last time," Lucian says, stroking his hair. "I promise I'll come back as soon as I can."

Mitchell nods into his shoulder, taking a steadying breath.

Lucian pulls back, holding him at arm's length. "Besides," he says, holding his face between his hands, "you've got George and Annie to look after. They need you here, and you need them. They're your family."

"You're my family too," Mitchell says, holding onto his arms.

He offers a small smile. "I know," he says, hugging him one last time, "I'll see you soon."

He lets him go and takes a step back, reaching for his bag. He lifts it onto his shoulder and pulls open the front door, stepping over the threshold. Before he heads out, he turns back to face Mitchell. "Call as often as you need to," he says, "anytime, day or night."

Mitchell offers a weak smile. "I will."

Lucian nods, and before he loses his resolve, turns and makes his way down the street.

Mitchell watches him from the doorway until he gets to the end of the road. Then, with a grin, he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and starts dialing.

Lucian stops at the end of the street as his phone starts ringing, and turns back to see Mitchell outlined in the doorway. He laughs as he answers the phone, "I haven't even made it two blocks yet."

"I was just checking," Mitchell says with a grin. "See you, Lucian."

He smiles. "See you."

Lucian clicks off the phone and deposits it back in his pocket, and with a final wave, he disappears down the street.

Mitchell remains in the doorway until Lucian is no longer in sight, then he slips back inside. He closes the door and leans against it with a sigh. _Yeah,_ he thinks, _things are going to be a lot different._

_****__~The End~_

* * *

**_I can hardly believe that we've closed the final chapter of this installment. I never would have imagined that one little idea I had would grow into the beginning of a three part series! It's been quite a ride bringing this to life, and I would like to thank you all for making this venture worthwhile._**

**_I hope you all have enjoyed reading Lucian as much as I have enjoyed writing him. I will say that he won't be _****quite_ as present in the next installment, but we certainly haven't seen the last of him!_**

**_I am pleased to finally announce that I will be introducing a new character in the next story; one that I have been developing since I first started writing this. Did any of you guess? The next installment is going to be a little bit more George-centric and to help that story progress, I will be introducing you to Andrew Monahan; my Kiwi werewolf as portrayed by none other than Dean O'Gorman! I can't tell you how much I've been DYING to write a character for Dean. I've got a lot of back story and characterization worked out for him already, and I hope you'll love him as much as I do!_**

**_Thank you all SO MUCH for reading! _**

_**Lucian and friends will return in COLD WAR: Part Two of The War Chronicles series. COMING SOON, so stay tuned!**_

_**As always, please share your thoughts!**_


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